3513 
G747lm 


A 

A 

0 
0 
0 
2 
4 
9 
8 
9 
9 
6 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


"5  IF1'  ";^ 


MY    CHEST 


RANSACKING. 


CLARA    G-OWING. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY    C.    W.    REED. 


READING: 
W.  E.  &  J.   F.  TWOMBLY. 


COPYRIGHT  1899 
BY  CLARA  GOWING,  READING. 


PS 
3513 


DEDICATED    TO    YOU, 
MY  FRIEND. 


1051933 


AS  IN  MY  CHEST  I  OFTEN  LOOK." 


PROEM. 

"By  all  means,  use  sometimes  to  be  alone. 
Salute  thyself;  see  what  thy  soul  doth  wear; 
Dare  to  look  in  thy  chest,  for  'tis  thy  own ; 
And  tumble  up  and  down  what  thoufindest  there.'* 

GEOKGE  HERBERT. 


As  in  my  chest  I  often  look, 

I  sometimes  am  inclined 
To  write  within  this  little  book, 

Stray  thoughts  that  there  I  find. 

Not  for  their  intrinsic  merit, 
Much  less,  their  classic  style, 

Nor  dreaming  they'll  ere  prove  profit,— 
Simply  an  hour  beguile. 

And  then  it  is  pleasant  to  know, 
There  are  thoughts  roaming  about, 

Which  the  tongue  unable  to  show, 
The  pen  perchance  will  bring  out, — 

For  when  alone  at  work  I've  sat, 
Or  strayed  from  mates  apart, 

I  have  loved  my  chest  to  ransack, 
And  search  o'er  all  my  heart. 


Strange  parcels  there,  oft  meet  my  view, 
Heart  yearnings  far  from  gay, 

Sunshine  and  cloud  of  every  hue, 
Compose  these  motley  lays. 

This  rubbish  is  of  me  a  part, 

And  shows  a  varied  mood, 
Not  meant  for  all,  but  those  whose  heart 

With  mine  is  in  attune. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

EljMWOOD, 

CONCORD,  MASS. 


THE  LAST  WISH. 

[Written  on  being  shown  by  a  friend  where  she  would  like  to  be 
buried  by  a  river.] 

Dear  friends,  weep  not  for  me  when  I  am  gone, 

But  come  to  the  river  side,  and  sing  to  me 

Those  songs  I  love    so    well.     Come,  bring   wild 

Flowers,  and  scatter  them  on  the  water 

To  make  it  calm  and  quiet,  that  there  I 

May  repose  at  last,  in  peacefulness. 

Bring  not  many,  to  view  my  resting  place, 

But  come  alone,  that  in  death  my  body 

May  enjoy  that  tranquility  thai  in  life 

My  spirit  longed  for. 

Let  no  monument 

Mark  the  spot  where  I  repose,  but  by  the 
Stranger  passed  unnoticed,  for  as  in  life 
But  few  cared  for  me,  so  'twill  be  in  death. 
Dear  friends,  in  autumn  when  the  summer  leaves 
Shall  change  and  die,  then  think  of  me,  but  not 
With  sadness,  but  as  one  who's  gone  to  rest 
From  the  many  trials  of  this  cold  world. 
CONCORD,  MASS  ,  1846. 


[Closing  of   the  Winter  Term  of   the  Delaware  Baptist  School, 
Kansas.] 

This  morning  dawned  mild,  clear,  and  bright, 
The  children  rose  with  hearts  quite  light, 


Happy  to  bid  adieu  to  school, 

To  books,  and  work,  and  every  rule. 

When  all  were  with  their  breakfast  through, 

Each  to  their  chores  quite  quickly  flew ; 

The  largest  boys  took  out  the  beds, 

And  on  the  grass  the  hay  soon  spread  ; 

While  the  girls,  from  the  windows  threw 

The  bedquilts,  and  the  pillows,  too, 

Thinking,  on  the  fence  to  hang  them, 

There,  the  wind  from  dust  to  free  them. 

But  from  the  south,  the  wind  blew  strong, 

And  on  the  fence,  they  stayed  not  long, 

But  over  the  yards  quickly  flew, 

Showing  colors  of  rainbow  hue. 

Water-boys  to  the  spring  were  sent, 

To  fill  the  barrels  ere  they  went. 

The  hills  echoed  their  voices  loud, 

('Tis  well  we  live  not  near  a  town,) 

Shouting,  "Vacation  !"  "Vacation  !" 

Surely  all  were  in  commotion. 

A  lively  scene  it  was,  I  ween, 

You  should  have  been  there  to  have  seen. 

In  due  time,  all  the  chores  were  done, 
Those  who  lived  nearest  homeward  run, 
Others  stayed  their  people  to  wait, 
The  last  were  gone  ere  it  was  late. 
Some  went  on  horse-back,  some  afoot, 
And  some,  without  a  parting  look. 
And  then,  to  sweep,  we  went  about, 
From  the  corners  the  dirt  to  rout. 


The  hay  we  swept,  but  oh,  the  mud 
To  start,  we  took  shovel  and  dug ; 
We  dug,  and    scrubbed,   and  washed,  and  swept, 
Till  on  the  floor  no  mud  was  left. 
When  this  was  done  night  o'er  us  crept, 
And  thus  it  was  the  children  left. 
Feb.  22nd,  18fll. 


[Lines  Written  for  a  Child  to  Spnak  at  their  Family  Christinas 
Tree.] 

Dear  Friends,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  here 

Within  our  home  so  bright, 
For  you  have  come  our  hearts  to  cheer 

On  this  merry  Christmas  night. 
Now,  I'll  tell  you  something  more  ; 

In  our  parlor  there's  a  tree 
All  with  presents  covered  o'er; 

How  it  got  there  I  don't  see, 
But  there  it  is,  and  you  will  find 

If  you  ope  the  folding  door, 
Something  pleasing  to  each  mind, 

On  the  tree  or  on  the  floor. 


[Lines  Sent  With  a  Cross.] 

Though  here  a  cross  I  give  to  thee, 
From  thorns  and  trouble  it  is  free; 
And  as  around  it  clings  the  vine, 
I  would  that  love  your  pathway  twine. 


AUTUMN. 

The  mellow  autumn  days  are  here, 
With  flowers  the  brightest  of  the  year, 

While  vine  and  tree  combine 

To  lend  their  fruit  betime  ; 
Shedding  abroad  their  fragrance  rare, 
Making  all  nature  charming  fair. 


[A  1'ostal  Card  to  one  who  had   Borrowed  a  Bag  and    Failed    to 
Return  it.] 

How  can  a  body  a  shopping  go, 
Without  a  bag,  I  would  like  to  know? 
If  you've  aught  of  the  kind  to  lend, 
Will  you  please  oblige  an  old  friend? 
Here  is  some  licorice  for  you  to  chew, 
Some  that  yon  left  here,  yon  and  Sue. 
A  word  to  the  wise  sufficient  should  be, — 
I  am  as  ever,  your  friend,  Clara  G. 


[A  Letter  to  a  Friend.] 

Delaware  Reservation,  March,  sixty-one, 
Strongly  blows  the  wind,  and  clouded  is  the  sun; 
Yours  received,  I  write  your  kindness  to  repay, 
'Tis  Friday  P.  M.,  the  twenty-second  day. 

After  breakfast,  Dear  Helen,  with  children  four, 
I  took  a  walk  down  the  creek,  a  mile  or  more, 
Where  plenty  of  stones,  of  all  colors  abound, 
Of  shapes  many :  large,  small,  thin,  smooth,  rough 
and  round ; 

10 


Shells,  too,  a  few  we  found,  though  neither  rich, 

nor  rare. 

The  only  mystery  was,  how  came  they  there? 
Were  they,  as  some  think  once  by  the  ocean  left, 
When  years  ago,  o'er  these  plains  its  waters  swept, 
And,  by  its  mighty  waves  these  fair  prairies  formed? 
I  think  not;  so  will  leave  the  how,  unsolved. 
Rare  stones  we  gathered  like  true  geologists, 
And  places  found  of  scenery  wildest ; 
Found    rocks,    earth,    and  trees  in  wild  confusion 

thrown, 

And  mosses  of  all  colors,  had  o'er  them  grown ; 
Here  ravines  by  rushing  waters  had  been   formed, 
And  there,  a  precipice  o'er  jotting  rocks  yawned. 
One  ravine  bears  the  title  of  "Deadman's  Leap," 
From  which  should    one   be    dashed,   they   there 

might  sleep. 

When  weary,  we  sat  down  in  some  sheltered  nook, 
And  scanned  over  a  page  from  Nature's  own  book, 
And  flowers,  now  and  then,  a  few  we  found, 
Delicate  white  ones,  just  peeping  from  the  ground. 
Anon,  we  tried  our  voices  in  loud  halloo 
That  the  hills  and  vales  the  sound  might  re-echo, 
Thinkest  thou,  my  friend,  we  need  civilizing? 
Why!  we  were  merely  out  geologizing. 
While  I  write  the  heavens  grow  black. 
Of  lightning  there  is  no  lack; 
Fearfully  loud,  the  thunder  roars, 
Surcharged  clouds  the  rain  out  pours. 
And  now  again,  the  sky  is  clear, 
And  singing  from  the  birds  I  hear. 

11 


The  grass  so  clean,  looks  very  green 
As  in  the  play- ground  it  is  seen. 


{To   my   Brother   on   Learning   he    had   Enlisted    for  the    War, 
August  1861.] 

Go,  brother,  go !  and  for  your  country  fight, 
Ever  stand  firm  for  freedom  and  for  right; 
For  this  thy  grandsires  fought  in  olden  time, 
For  this  they  dared  their  peaceful  homes  resign. 
What  they  so  dearly  bought,  protect  with  might, 
For  freedom's  holy,  blood  bought  soil  dare  fight; 
Leave  home  and  kindred,  and  friends  that  are  dear, 
Go  then,  trusting  in  God,  without  a  fear. 

Go,  brother,  go!  thy  country  bids  thee  go  ! 
With  courage  bold  go  forth  to  meet  the  foe. 
They've  dared  th}'  country's  sacred  rights  defy, 
Defend  those  rights,  and  on  thy  God  rely, 
Shrink  not  to  leave  thy  wife  and  child  so  dear, 
Though  parting  cost  thee  many  a  sad  tear, 
For  what  to  thee,  would  be  thy  home  now  dear, 
Were  the  Rebel  flag  to  be  planted  here? 

Brother!  thy  sister  loves,  yet  bids  thee  go; 
For  God's  own  righteous  cause  all  else  forgo ; 
Fight  for  the  right,  or  die  as  heroes  die. 
For  thee,  thy  sister's  prayer  shall  daily  rise. 
To  Him,  who  listens  to  the  humblest  cry 
That  thou  may  always  feel  His  spirit  nigh, 
Ever  to  nerve  thy  arm,  thy  soul  to  cheer, 
Then  brother  go,  my  brother  very  dear. 

12 


Go  then,  and  may  God's  blessing  rest  on  thee, 
From  pain  and  death,  mayest  thou  protected  be. 
Though  many  anxious  hours  thy  friends  will  pass 
We'll  trust  in  God,  that  we  may  meet  at  last 
Where  wars  and  conflict  will  no  more  break  out, 
But  joy  and  harmony  will  reign  throughout. 
Then,  brother,  if  thy  country  need  thee,  light! 
God  will  preserve  and  bless,  in  doing  right. 


[Lines  Addressed  to  my  Sister  on  the  Death  of  Her  Infant  } 

Thou  art  gone  to  thy  rest,  dear  little  one  ; 
Very  quickly,  thy  course  on  earth  was  run  ; 
Tenderly  thy  form,  in  the  grave  has  been  lain, 
But  thy  pure  spirit,  with  thy  God  doth  reign. 

Ere  yet  thy  feet  had  trod  the  mazy  way 
Which  leads  to  death,  or  the  endless  day, 
Thy  Maker  called  thee,  to  the  world  above, 
To  dwell  and  flourish  beneath  His  love. 

Then  we'll  not  mourn,  that  thy  spirit  has  gone, 
Ere  of  earth's  pain  and  woe  it  tasted  long ; 
But  try  to  feel,  "God  doeth  all  things  well," 
And  meet  on  high,  with  Christ  and  thee  to  dwell. 


[Lines  to  Friends  who  sent  a  Barrel  of  Clothing  to  the  Delaware 
Baptist  Mission,  Kan.] 

Many  thanks  for  the  barrel,  packed  so  tight, 
Which  came  to  the  Mission,  at  last,  all  right; 

13 


Crowded  and  packed  I  ween,  by  thoughtful  hands, 
Then  nailed  strong  enough,  to  visit  all  lands. 
The  ticket,  (Express,)  seemed  an  old  friend. 
Could  you  have  looked  in  at  the  Mission  then, 
You'd  have  seen  a  queer  sight,  I  think,  perhaps, 
When  out  came  the  head,  by  many  hard  raps, 
For  each,  (as  people  from  a  grab-bag  do,) 
Put  in  their  hand,  and  taking  out  a  few 
Of  what  was  handy,  displayed  to  view 
Various  articles  of  every  hue ; 
Clothing  of  all  kinds,  some  large  and  some  small ; 
And  soon  we  had  found  something  for  us  all. 
With  our  dresses  we  were  all  much  pleased, 
As  if  each  for  themselves  had  selected ; 
We'll  prize  them,  for  kind  hearts  of  which  they  tell, 
As  these  tokens  show  our  friends  love  us  well. 
Miss  M.  sends  her  love,  and  will   write  you    soon, 
Just  now  I  hear  her  coughing  in  her  room, 
For  you  must  know,  of  colds  we  have  enough, 
Though  generally  we  are  well  and  quite  tough. 
From  rhyming  such  nonsense,  I  now   must   stop, 
Why,  'tis  nearly,  or  quite  eleven  o'clock. 
To  scribble  you  more  I  may  not  tarry, 
Only  subscribe  myself,  your  friend,  Clara. 

SUPPLICATION. 

In  all  the  varied  paths  of  life, 

O  God,  I  pray  Thee,  be 
My  guide,  and  council,  inward  light, 

Winning  my  soul  to  Thee. 

14 


In  daily  life  we  meet  with  sin, 

And  fancy  onward  lures  ; 
But  if  God's  Spirit  dwell  within 

His  strength  will  prove  secure. 
Oh,  lead  me  ever  in  Thy  way, 

Though  dark  it  may  appear. 
A  Father's  love  will  be  the  ray 

To  banish  every  fear. 
Then  bless  me  Father,  with  Thy  grace, 

And  draw  me  unto  Thee, 
Help  me  in  all,  Thy  love  to  trace, 

O  Lord,  remember  me. 
And  grant  Thy  blessing  rest  upon 

Those  that  on  earth  I  love, 
May  they  accept  of  Christ,  Thy  Son, 

And  reign  with  Him  above. 


A  PEEP  AT  HOME. 
'Tis  Sabbath  eve,  all  nature's  still, 

My  thoughts  wandering  roam 
Away  to  eastern  vales  and  hills, 

And  take  a  peep  at  home. 
Beside  the  fire  my  mother  sits, 

Her  form  by  age  not  bent ; 
Pensive  her  mood,  perchance  she  thinks, 

Of  her  loved  ones  absent. 
And  for  their  good  she  breathes  a  prayer, 

To  God  the  Father  dear, 
That  He'll  bestow  His  watchful  care 

And  bless  their  pathway  here. 


And  on  his  staff  my  father  bows; 

His  hair  is  snowy  white, 
For  seventy  winters  mark  his  brow 

Though  yet  the  eye  beams  bright. 

Methinks  his  thoughts  I  plainly  read, 
They're  with  the  absent  ones ; 

For  one  is  on  the  battle-field  — 
The  dear,  the  youngest  son. 

His  country's  call  he  answered,  too, 

And  bade  adieu  to  friends, 
For  in  his  veins  the  blood  beats  true, 

The  Union  to  defend. 

And  one  has  gone  toward  setting  sun, 
Where  prairie  flowers  bloom  ; 

To  teach  America's  wild  sons, 
In  Heaven  there's  yet  room. 

And  there  are  those  who  nearer  dwell, 
Each  share  their  parents  prayer; 

May  "He  who  doeth  all  things  well," 
Of  grace  give  each  a  share. 

And  when  they're  called,  (as  all  must  be,) 

To  leave  this  earthly  place, 
Oh,  that  with  angels  they  may  see 

The  Savior,  face  to  face. 

Then  feel  not  anxious  for  thy  bairns, 

But  trust  a  Father's  care  ; 
Through  dangers  he  can  keep  from  harm 

Who  numbers  all  their  hairs. 

17 


God  bless  thee,  parents,  ever  dear, 
My  mother,  and  my  sire ; 

Prepare  thee,  while  journeying  here, 
To  tune  the  heavenly  lyre. 

KANSAS,  April,  1863. 


SUNSHINE  AND  SHADE. 

Life  has  its  joys ;  then  why  despond, 
And  sadly  brood  o'er  sorrow? 

The  night,  though  dark,  at  last  will  end, 
And  sunshine  on  the  morrow. 

We  would  not  know  how  much  to  prize 

The  glorious  orb  of  day, 
Did  not  a  cloud  some  times  arise, 

Dimming  for  a  while  its  rays. 

And  so  with  trials  in  this  life, 

Darkly  for  a  time  appear, 
Then  pass  away,  and  beams  the  light, 

That  quickly  checks  the  tear. 

We  know  there's  One  that  makes  us  strong, 
When  battling  life's  storms  we're  weak, 

If  we  His  strength  sincerely  long, 
Truly,  guidance  from  Him  seek. 

How  sweet  'twill  be  to  feel  the  smile 
A  kind  Father's  love  bestows, 

On  those  who  're  striving  for  a  while, 
To  follow  Christ  here  below. 

18 


Then  cheer  thee  up,  my  soul  arise, 
There  is  duty  marked  for  you ; 

And  faith  points  upward  to  the  skies, — 
With  courage  your  way  pursue. 

KANSAS,  April,  1863. 


[A  Prayer  for  my  little  Nephew.j 

Heavenly  Father,  hear  my  prayer, 
And  grant  to  me  Thy  tender  care. 
Oh,  give  me  health,  and  keep  from  harm ; 
Guide  me  by  Thy  powerful  arm. 
In  sinful  ways,  may  I  ne'er  stray, 
But  yield  my  heart  without  delay ; 
To  Thee  devote  my  early  youth, 
And  love  Thy  Book  of  Holy  Truth. 
My  brother  two,  oh !  may  he  share, 
Thy  loving  kindness,  watchful  care. 
And  bless  my  parents,  ever  dear, 
And  all  my  friends,  both  far  and  near. 
And  if  on  earth,  we  meet  no  more, 
Bear  us  all,  to  Thy  "shining  shore;" 
There  with  angels,  a  part  to  take, 
Oh,  hear  my  prayer  for  Jesus'  sake. 


UNDER  THE  CLOUD. 

Darkly  the  clouds  are  gathering  oer, 
Stretching  with  gloominess  far  before. 


19 


Father,  behind  them  my  spirit  tries 
In  vain,  Thy  countenance  to  descry. 

Alas,  that  my  soul  so  common  be, 
The  silver  lining  I  cannot  see, — 
O,  enter  Thou,  and  my  heart  refine, 
Cause  my  will  to  yield  itself  to  Thine. 

Help  me,  O  Father,  Thy  hand  to  see, 
In  all  the  paths  Thou'st  appointed  me  ; 
And  ever  wilt  Thou  by  Thy  grace  sustain 
Through  suffering,  in  this  world  of  pain. 

Then,  'neath  the  cloud  my  heart  will  discern 
The  lesson  I  need  so  much  to  learn. 
Feeling  the  rod  yet  I'll  kiss  the  hand, 
Which  guides  Thine  own  to  the  promised  land. 

KANSAS,  April,  1863. 


MEMORIAL. 

I'm  told  dear  aunt  has  passed  away, 

The  path  that  opes  to  all, 
The  debt  of  nature  each  must  pay, 

When  're  the  Master  calls. 

The  loved  one's  form  no  more  we'll  see, 
That  form  so  bent  with  care, 

Death  came  to  set  her  spirit  free, 
With  Christ  His  joys  to  share. 

20 


Sweetly  of  her  our  thoughts  will  dwell, 

With  love  and  honor,  too, 
For  surely  we  did  prize  her  well, 

So  pure  of  heart  and  true. 

In  life  she  showed  a  Christian's  heart, 

And  kindly  felt  for  all ; 
Gently  she  ever  bore  her  part, — 

On  us  may  her  mantle  fall. 

From  her  would'st  learn  to  bear  our  part, 

While  tarrying  here  below, 
Our  duty  do  with  all  our  heart, 

Love  to  every  one  show. 
Then  mourn  not,  though  she's  gone  before, 

Through  death's  vale  safely  past, 
But  meet  her  on  the  other  shore, 

Meeting  no  more  to  part. 


[A  Prayer  for  Peace — written  during  the  war  of  the  Rebellion.] 

Father,  our  country  bless, 
Save  from  war's  distress. 

Author  of  light 
In  battle  be  Thou  near, 
Our  friends  protect  so  dear, 
May  they  no  danger  fear, 

Though  called  to  fight. 

Give  courage  to  the  weak, 
May  they  Thy  council  seek, 
Smile  from  above. 


21 


Where  darkness  reigns,  send  light, 
There  may  God's  cause  shine  bright, 
Kept  ever  by  Thy  might, 
Father  of  Love. 

Bless  Thou  our  Union  men, 
Their  dear  firesides  defend  ; 

Guard  them  ever. 
May  they  the  right  piirsue, 
Success  to  them  accrue, 
Thy  mercy  ne'er  misuse, 

True  men  ever. 

O  Thou  God  of  battle, 

Wilt  break  the  slaves  shackle, 

And  set  them  free? 
From  tryanny  them  release, 
O,  may  their  bondage  cease, 
Through  all  the  land  reign  peace, 

Praise  be  to  Thee. 


KANSAS,  October,  1863. 


[Lines  Addressed  to  rny  Sister  —  on  the  Birth  of  a  Son.] 

A  wee  bit  child  is  born  I  hear ; 
Many  the  hearts,  oh,  may  it  cheer. 
Fond  parents,  I  wish  you  much  joy, 
In  this  your  darling  baby  boy. 

To  you  a  holy  trust  is  given, 

To  guide  through  life,  lead  to  heaven 

22 


A  spirit  of  immortal  birth, 

Of  God's  image,  though  now  of  earth. 

To  your  keeping  a  jewel's  lent, 

For  wise  purposes  to  you  sent ; 

To  worship  it  oh!  never  dare, 

But  cherish  it  with,  tender  care. 

By  your  own  lives  the  path  show  clear, 

Which   leads   above,    through    doubts  and  fears ; 

And  thus  to  you  may  grace  be  given 

With  yours,  to  journey  on  to  heaven. 


AUTUMN  LEAVES. 

How  gently  fell  the  autumn  leaves, 
When  their  brief  life  was  oer, 

Borne  downward  by  the  passing  breeze, 
They  greet  our  gaze  no  more. 

Life  and  beauty  from  them  had  fled, 

But  not  so  all  their  worth  ; 
From  waving  boughs  they  quickly  sped 

To  nourish  mother  earth. 

But  when  again  the  sun's  warm  ray, 
Shall  life  once  more  renew, 

And  the  trees  with  verdure  o'er  lay, 
They'll  come  to  us  anew. 

Perchance  not  in  the  form  of  old, 

For  that  has  passed  away, 
But  in  another  mold  we're  told 

They'll  live  again  some  day. 

23 


May  we  from  them  a  lesson  learn, 

This  life  is  not  our  all ; 
Then  from  it  let  us  gladly  turn, 

When  our  dear  Lord  may  call. 

Thus  gently  we  should  pass  from    earth, 

Nor  wistful  look  behind,. 
We  go  but  to  another  birth  ; 

We  trust  a  purer  clime. 

If  ought  of  worth  we  here  have  done, 
'Twill  live,  though  we  are  not, 

And  quickened  by  the  Eternal  Son 
Endless  will  be  its  lot. 

1863. 


A  NATIONAL  THANKSGIVING. 

[By  order  of  President  Lincoln,  Nov.  26th,  1863.] 

To-day,  as  a  nation  we  join  with  one  accord, 
Lifting  our  hearts  in  grateful  praise  to  the  Lord, — 
For  his  mercies  hath  He  shed  as  free  as  the  light ; 
Oh  then,  let  us  thank  Him   with    our  whole    soul 

and  might. 

He  hath  given  the  sunshine,  the  rain  and  the  dew, 
With  plenty,  filling  our  barns  and  granaries,  too  ; 
The  ground,  of  vegetables  has  yielded  its  share, 
The  vines  and  trees  bowed,  with  their    weight    of 

fruit  fair. 
Though   war  has  threatened   our   fair   country   to 

deform, 

24 


Upheld  by  God's  kind  hand,    we   still   brave  the 

fierce  storm ; 
And  onward  with  vigor,   we   would   battle    with 

wrong, 
Till  o'er  all  our  land  shall  swell    forth    Freedom's 

song. 

Then,  Heavenly  Father,  be  with  our  soldiers  brave, 
Who,    from    their  homes    have    gone    forth    their 

country  to  save, 

Give  courage  and  wisdom  in  the  hour  of  distress, 
With  victory's  crown   at   last,    their   stern    labors 

bless. 
Though    from    our    midst,    we    mourn    our   noble 

fallen  sons, 

For  right  they  bravely  fought,  in    death  their  re 
ward  won. 

In  our  hearts  we  will  cherish  their  memories  dear, 
With  their  weeping  friends,  shed  the  sympathizing 

tear ; 
Praying  behind  the  cloud,  they  may  discern  God's 

smile, 
Cheering  their  lone  way,    while    they   tarry    here 

awhile. 

We  know  afHiction  to  his  loved  ones  He  doth  send, 
But  with  it,  His  loving  kindness  and  strength  doth 

lend. 
Then    arise,    all    the    nation !     with    thanksgiving 

sing, 
Till  from  shore  to  shore,   writh   song   the    welkins 

shall  ring. 

25 


Shout  forth  your  loud  hosannas  with  one   accord, 
Praise  ye  with  full  hearts,  our  Father  and  our  Lord; 
'Tis  He  who  has  guided  us,  thus  far  on  our  way, 
And  will  yet  onward  lead,  to  bright  and   peaceful 

days ; 

To  him  will  we  ascribe,  glory,  honor  and  praise, 
Both    now   and   evermore,    when    our    voices   we 

raise. 


A  FAST-DAY  PRAYER. 

[On  Account  of  Reverses  in  the  Army  of   the  Tidon  President 

Abraham  Lincoln  appointed  a  National  Fast-day 

Aug.  4th,  18W.] 

Father,  to-day  we  seek  Thy  face, 
And  as  a  Nation,  pray  for  grace  ; 
Grace  to  lead  us  in  the  right, — 
Oh,  guide  us  ever  by  Thy  light. 

Humble  our  hearts  we  pray  O  Lord, 
And  shed  Thy  presence  all  abroad, ' 
Oh,  purge  us  from  our  many  sins, 
And  deign  to  dwell  our  hearts  within. 

We  pray  our  rulers  true  may  be 
To  their  country,  themselves,  and  Thee, 
And  gird  their  armor  on   with   might, 
Looking  to  Thee,  to  bless  the  right. 

To  our  soldiers  true  courage  lend, 
Who've  gone  forth  Thy  cause  to  defend ; 
May  they  Thy  guidance  always  seek, 
Trusting  in  Thee  with  spirit  meek. 

26 


Thus  through  this  conflict  lead  us  on. 
Till  peace  and  liberty  be  won ; 
Then  may  all  bow  with  one  accord, 
Ascribing  glory  to  the  Lord. 


ONWARD-UPWARD. 

As  the'  water  floweth  onward, 
So  would  I  my  course  pursue  ; 
Never  halting,  looking  upward, 
Though  the  path  be  rough  and  new, 
Ever  onward. 

Though  the  stream  be  small  and  feeble, 
Yet  its  course  it  never  stays  ; 
So  by  grace  may  I  be  able 
To  press  onward,  in  God's  way, 
Though  so  feeble. 

When  o'er  rocks  the  streamlet  floweth, 
Tending  to  the  distant  ocean, 
Ever  murmurs  as  it  goeth, 
Onward,  onward,  ever  on — 
As  it  floweth. 

So  when  trials  gather  round  me, 
And  dark  clouds  o'er  cast  my  sky, 
And  my  spirit  faints  within  me, 
Help  me  Lord,  to  look  on  high — 
To  me  draw  nigh. 

27 


And  my  cross,  oh  !  help  me  bear, 
Lest  it  prove  too  much  for  me ; 
Keep  me  Lord,  from  deep  despair — 
Hear  me  when  I  cry  to  Thee, 
Hear  my  prayer. 

And  when  I'm  done  with  care  and  strife, 
And  none  are  exempt  below, 
Oh !  give  me  that  eternal  life 
Where  streams  immortal  flow, 
Eternal  life. 

IiYNCHBURG,  VA.,  Feb.,  1866. 


TO  MY  MUSE. 

O,  sweet  poesy ! 
How  thou  my  soul  doth  stir, 
And  call  from  out  its  depths, 
Thoughts  till  now  unknown, 
And  would  ne'er  have  been  born 
But  for  thy  sweet  power. 
Ah  !  how  my  soul  doth  love  thee, 
How  love  to  roam  enchanted 
In  thy  deep  labyrinths, 
With  nature  communing; 
And  on  wings  fancy  free 
Soar  far  away  ;  away 
From  evil  that  sui'rounds, 
And  aught  that  tries  the  soul. 
Thou  leadest  from  joy,  to  joy, 
And  thou,  doth  so  impress 

28 


With  lofty  peacefulness, 
That  from  my  inward  soul 
I  long  thee  to  possess. 
Thou  for  a  while  rny  mind 
Doth  fill,  and  o'er  flowing 
My  cup  with  nectar  sweet, 
Give  a  taste  of  Heaven. 


ELMWOOD, 

CONCORD,  MASS. 


[To  an  Aunt— On  the  Death  of  her  Husband.] 

Gone  before  thee, — thy  loved  one's  gone,. 

To  the  unknown  gone  before, 
While  thou  lingering,  tarry  yet, 

On  this  lowly  mortal  shore. 

Gone  before  thee,  yes,  he's  gone, 

Free  from  pain,  and  strife,  and  care  ; 

He  has  reached  the  home  immortal, 
And  no  sorrow  enters  there. 

Gone  before  thee,  gone  before  thee, 
While  thou  waiting,  lonely  feel, 

But  'tis  God  who  doeth  all  things, 
He  will  all  thy  anguish  heal. 

Lean  on  Him  and  trust  Him  always, 

Ever  present  He  will  be, 
And  the  loved  one  gone  before  thee, 

Soon  on  high  will  welcome  thee. 

29 


Only  waiting  while  God's  reapers, 

Bear  the  ripe  sheaves,  one  by  one, 
Soon  they'll  come  and  take  thee  with  them, 

To  the  Father  and  His  Son. 
Mourn  then  not,  though  thou  art  left, 

Longer  yet  thy  fruit  to  bear, 
But  with  patience  press  thou  onward, 

To  that  home  surpassing  fair. 


[Thoughts   Suggested   from    a  Visit  to  the  National  Arlington 
Cemetery,  Arlington,  Va.] 

Oh !  wondrous  fair,  and  hallowed  spot, 
Lovely  by  nature,  enchanced  by  art ; 
Most  fitting  place  for  those,  who  for  their 
Country  fought ;  and  for  it  willing  died. 
Gathered  with  tenderest  care  from  thousand 
Battlefields,  whose  soil  their  life  blood  drank, 
Here  may  they  slumber  undisturbed  ; 
Ever  to  be  by  a  Nation  cherished, 
In  its  heart  embalmed,  as  hallowed  sons. 
Long  as  time  shall  last  their  noble  deeds 
Shall  live  in  hearts  of  loyal  blood  ; 
Ages  yet  unborn  shall  tell  how  they  fell 
For  God  and  Liberty. 

Guarded  by  a  Nation's  love, 
No  impious  footstep  here  shall  tread 
The  herbage  of  their  grave,  but  ever  bright 
The  glory  that  gilds  their  deathless  tomb. 
They  were  our  country's  pride,  our  dear  ones  gone — 
Honored  soil  that  holds  their  sacred  form. 
ALEXANDRIA,  VA.,  May,  1867. 

30 


BIRTHDAY  SOLILOQUY. 

"The  years  of  man's  life  are  threescore  and  ten." 

I'm  thirty-five,  and  half  way  home, 

Half  of  life's  journey  o'er; 
Half  of  its  rough  battles  fought, 

Half  way  the  other  shore ; 
Pausing,  midway  the  stream  of  life, 

In  retrospect  I  look 
Through  all  the  past ;  then  willing  turn 

To  read  the  uncut  book. 
Onward,  gaze  I  through  the  vista 

Of  the  future  all  unseen, 
Yet  with  trusting  hope  and  courage 

Launch  my  boat  ad  own  the  stream ; 
Never  doubting  but  the  hand 

Which  thus  far  has  led  me  on, 
Still  will  guide  me  through  life's  conflict, 

Till  the  victory  be  won. 
ALEXANDRIA,  VA.,  May  22, 1867. 


[Written  for  the  Children's  Christmas  Tree.] 

O,  come  good  Muse,  attend  I  pray, 

While  I  attempt  a  Christmas  lay. 

In  olden  times  of  joy  and  mirth, 

When  fires  were  made  upon  the  hearth, 

And  'bout  them  sat  the  old  and  young, 

While  jokes  went  round,  and   songs   were    sung, 

Till  lowly  burned  the  blazing  fire  ; 

Then  all  would  to  their  beds  retire, 

31 


And  in  the  quiet  of  the  night, 

With  naught  but  stars,  to  give  him  light, 

Old  Santa  Glaus  would  come  to  town, 

And  many  good  things  scatter  round  ; 

Leaving  for  each  wee  girl  and  boy 

A  pretty  book  or  pleasing  toy. 

But  now  all  things  are  strangely  changed, 

And  in  the  chimneys  stoves  arranged, 

So  that  in  the  cold  December, 

When  Old  Santa  would  remember 

His  yearly  call  on  little  ones, 

He  cannot  down  the  chimney  run, 

Thus  yielding  to  this  new  wrinkle, 

He's  sent  his  old  wife,  Kriss  Krinkle, 

Who  now  brings,  as  you  all  may  see, 

A  beautiful  bright  Christmas  tree, 

Hoping  of  its  fruit  you  may  find 

Gifts  well  pleasing  to  each  mind. 

Why,  here's  some  boots  of  rubber  made, 

With  nice  warm  flannel  all  inlaid, 

They  were  not  meant  for  a  coward 

Wonder  if  they'd  fit  our  Howard, 

And  keep  his  feet  both  warm  and  dry  ? 

Then  to  be  a  good  boy  you  must  try. 

What  is  this  for  Helen,  so  bright  ? 

'Tis  knife  and  fork  of  silver  white ; 

Use  them  with  ease  to  eat,  my  dear, 

Then  place  upon  your  plate  quite  near. 

A  rolling-pin  is  also  found, 

To  make  your  pies,  so  smooth  and  round. 

32 


A  bedstead,  too,  from  cousin  Grace, 
With  doll  within,  with  nice  washed  face. 
Shirts  there  are  for  Uncle  Charley, 
And  a  right  smart  hat  for  Harley, 
A  jacket,  too,  all  bright  and  new, 
May  the  heart  beneath  ere  beat  true. 
And  Paul,  for  you  a  fork  is  placed, 
That  you  may  eat  with  ease  and  grace. 
And  here  is  one  for  Parker,  too, 
Both  made  of  silver  bright  and  new. 
Now,  Arthur,  I  am  sure  will  find 
Books  and  toys  pleasing  to  his  mind. 
Here  is  a  cane  for  grandpa's  hand, 
To  rest  him  when  he  walks  or  stands,. 
And  for  grandma  and  grandpa  G., 
An  Album  Book,  I  plainly  see, 
To  hold  within  the  faces  dear 
Of  children  and  friends  far  and  near. 
Tidies  there  are  the  chairs  to  cover, 
To  mention  all  I  will  not  bother  ; 
But  now  before  I  leave  the  town, 
To  each  their  gift  will  hand  around. 
Wishing  you  all  a  Christmas  dear, 
And  also  a  happy  New  Year, 
And  while  you  all  so  joyful  are 
I  must  away  and  travel  far, 
And  other  homes  make  gladly  bright,. 
On  this  most  merry  Christmas  night. 
MAPLE  COTTAGE, 
READING,  MASS. 

33 


[To  my  Parents  on  their  Fiftieth  Wedding  Anniversary.] 

A  Holy  Sabbath  morn  in  May, 

Witnessed  your  plighted  vows, 
And  often  has  the  date  recurred 

Till  numbering  fifty  now. 
Yes,  half  a  century  has  passed  o'er, 

Your  wedded  years  together, 
And  you  have  toiled  and  faithful  been 

Through  fair  and  stormy  weather. 
Not  often  does  the  marriage  bond, 

Remain  thus  long  unbroken, 
And  by  this  we  would  recognize, 

Of  Heavenly  love  a  token. 
Through  all  the  long  and  changeful  years, 

God's  mercy  has  been  given, 
He's  kept  you  through  the  trying  hours, 

Then  onward  press  to  Heaven. 
Sure  common  blessings  without  stint, 

Have  been  to  you  assigned, 
And  what  is  better  far  than  wealth, 

A  mind  in  all  resigned.- 

Children  have  gamboled  round  your  hearth, 

'And  four  to  manhood  came, 
Their  children  came  in  turn  again 
To  bear  the  Gowing  name. 

And  may  each  wear  it  with  the  grace, 

That  you  have  done  so  well, 
And  live  an  honor  and  a  crown, 

Your  praises  long  to  tell. 

34 


Together  on  this  sacred  day, 

The  young  and  aged  meet, 
The  snowy  head,  the.  lithe  of  limb, 

All  happy  you  to  greet, 

Rejoicing  that  so  long  you've  dwelt, 

In  quiet  paths  below, 
And  thus  may  you  continue  on, 

Your  cup  with  love  o'er  flow. 

And  as  you  near  the  boundary  line, 

And  worldly  cares  resign, 
Through  faith  you  upward  look  for  rest, 

The  rest  beyond  the  sky. 

There  may  we  all  united  meet, 

Parents  and  kindred  dear, 
Meet  where  no  parting  ever  comes, 

Nor  pain,  nor  sigh,  nor  tear. 

May  29,  1869. 


[To  the  Social  Readers'  Circle,  Reading.] 

Readers  of  the  Social  Circle, 
Will  you  listen  while  I  give  you 
Items  from  a  southern  state  ? 
Way  down  south  in  Dixie's  land, 
Where  the  cotton  grows  so  plenty, 
With  its  blossoms  one  day  buff, 
And  the  next,  behold,  they  are  pink, 
With  its  cups  of  milky  whiteness. 
How  'tis  picked  all  through  the  autumn, 

35 


Gathered  by  the  colored  people, 
Cup  by  cup,  as  each  one  opens, 
Till  the  white  frost  comes  in  winter, 
Nips  the  fingers  of  the  pickers, 
Spoils  the  goodness  of  the  cotton. 

Where  tobacco  grows  abundant, 
With  its  broad  long  leaf  of  green, 
Drawing  poison  from  surroundings 
To  impart  to  its  consumers  ; 
Sure,  though  slow,  will  work  the  poison, 
Though  in  doses  homeopathic. 

Where  the  maze  grows  luxuriant, 
A  field,  a  forest  looks  to  be, 
Grows  so  high  its  feet  to  number 
You  must  count  quite  into  teens. 
Where  the  wheat  waves  high  in  summer, 
Gathering  richness  from  the  soil, 
Gathering  but  to  give  again, 
Rich-ness  in  the  full  ripe  grain. 
Where  the  yam  grows  in  perfection, 
Large  and  yellow  and  quite  toothsome. 

Where  the  butter  is  not  golden, 
Neither  is  it  hard  as  wax, 
But  the  motes  do  much  abound, 
Or  perchance  a  beam  is  found, 
Giving  it  a  cloudy  hue, 
Very  much  like  quaker  color. 

Where  the  pigs  roam  at  pleasure, 
In  the  street  and  in  the  lanes, 
Grunting  at  you  as  you  pass  them, 

36 


'GATHEKED   BY  THE  COLORED   PEOPLE." 


Rooting  'neath  the  garden  fence, 
Entering  often  unawares, 
Digging  all  your  choicest  plants, 
Eating  what  you  prize  the  most. 

Where  you  see  the  tree  Magnolia, 
With  its  large  leaf  thick  and  shining, 
With  its  leaf  of  evergreen, 
With  its  white  and  fragrant  blossom, 
Showering  sweetness  all  around. 

Where  the  Holly  tree  is  found, 
With  its  varnished  leaf  also, 
With  its  prickly  pointed  leaves, 
And  its  berries  of  bright  red. 
And  the  mistletoe  dependent, 
From  the  antique,  dying  trees, 
Drawing  life  from  out  the  dying, 
Looking  fresh  through  all  the  season, 
Serves  us  well  our  rooms  to  garnish, 
For  the  merry  Christmas  days. 

Shall  I  tell  you  of  the  people, 
Of  the  whites  and  of  the  blacks, 
And  all  the  shades  that  intervene, 
How  they  all  tobacco  use, 
Puffing  smoke  where'er  they  go, 
Spitting  pools  of  liquid  poison, 
Taking  snuff  by  means  of  suction 
From  the  ends  of  sharpened  sticks? 

Need  I  tell  you  that  they  "reckon," 
And  at  times  they  "disremember," 
And  they  meet  you  with  a  "how-dy," 

38 


And  quite  oft  they  are  "mighty  weak," 
And  then  again  they  are  "right  smart," 
Or  the  weather  is  "right  cold," 
That  the  children  have  a  "paw," 
That  they  also  have  a  "maw," 
For  their  relatives  parental? 

But  to  tell  you  all  I  cannot, 
Of  the  rare  things  of  the  south, 
Of  the  things  that  are  quite  lovely, 
Of  the  things  that  vex  the  Yankee, 
Or  that  give  him  great  delight, 
Things  that  meet  one  everywhere, 
When  they  cross  the  line  of  Dixon. 
NASHVILLE,  TENN.,  Feb..  1870. 


ANGEL   VISITS. 

An  angel  came  to  us  by  night, 

With  wings  all  spread,  and  garments  white, 
He  came,  we  trembled  at  the  sight, 

Trembled  for  one,  our  household  light. 

Though  short  his  stay  our  hearts  he  tore, 
As  soaring  from  our  reach  above, 

Upward  our  darling  boy  he  bore, 

From  earthly  home,  and  parents'  love. 

****** 

Again  the  angel  came  to  us, 

And  rent  our  anguished  hearts  anew, 
He  came,  and  at  the  evening's  hush, 

Another  took,  from  our  number  few. 

39 


But  can  a  circle  broken  be, 

That  expanding  enters  heaven? 

Transplanted  there  our  children  see, 
Glorious  life  to  them  is  given. 

There  in  genial  clime  they'll  flourish, 
Growing  in  wisdom,  perfect  love; 

Still  for  us  affection  cherish, 
Drawing  us  to  Heaven  above. 

Hushed,  oh!  hushed,  then  be  all  mourning, 

Since  with  the  Savior  they  are  blest, 
And  our  faith  beholds  them  waiting 

To  greet  us,  to  that  land  of  rest. 
READING.  MASS..  1871. 


[To  a  Young:  Married  Couple.] 

Looking  from  my  window  yesterday  morn, 

The  earth  I  beheld  as  a  bride,  adorned; 

Each    tree,    shrub,     and    flower   were    dressed   in 

white ; 

And  all  imperfections  were  out  of  sight ; 
The  snow  so  silently  had  fallen  down, 
Filling  each  nook,  and  covering  the  ground, 
That  quite  unawares  the  robing  was  done, 
And  from  the  blue  sky,  shone  forth  the  bright  sun. 

And  thus,  methought  I,  comes  love  to  the  heart, 
Unsought,  unheeded,  its  joys  it  imparts, 
It  envelopes  the  form,  and  robes  with  grace 
The  awkward  figure,  or  the  plainest  face ; 

40 


And  those  that  by  nature,  with  beauty  are  blessed, 
True  love  will  adorn,  more  than  art,  or  dress : 
It  softens  all  blemish,  with  patience  bears 
The  freaks,  and  follies,  humanity  heirs. 

To  the  bride  and  groom  of  yesterday  night, 
We  wish  this  love,  your  pathway  to  light ; 
'Twill  soften  life's  trials,  its  joys  increase, 
Encircling  your  home  with  sunshine  and  peace. 
And  thus  as  the  seasons  pass  on  and  o'er, 
Your  affection  will  strengthen  more  and  more, — 
And  since  from  sorrow  none  here  are  free, 
May  yours,  by  tender  mercy,  tempered  be. 

MAPLE  COTTAGE, 
READING,  MASS. 


THE  PASTOR'S  RIDE. 
'Twas  a  lovely  day  for  winter, 

The  air  so  soft  and  mild, 
And  there  being  naught  to  hinder, 
The  Pastor  took  a  ride. 

And  what  was  quite  unusual, 
The  fair  Priscilla  went, — 

Their  happiness  was  mutual, 
For  love  its  presence  lent. 

The  sleighing,  it  was  very  fine, 
Though  what  cared  they  for  that  ? 

Nor  heeded  they  how  sped  the  time, 
Since  they  with  each  could  chat. 

41 


As  on  they  went  with  merry  glide, 
He  thought,  "how  nice  'twould  be, 

To  have  her  ever  by  my  side, 
A  loving  wife  to  be." 

So  when  again  they  crossed  a  bridge, 
(For  several  lay  that  way,) 

He  took  the  time  when  on  a  ridge, 
The  lover's  words  to  say. 

Then  she  with  honest  truth  replied, 
"With  you  to  live  were  bliss." 

He  pressed  her  closely  to  his  side, 
And  on  her  lips  a  kiss. 


[To  the  Social  Readers'  Circle,  of  Heading.] 

Where  the  hills  of  Hampden  tower, 
Towering  toward  the  ether  blue, 
Clothed  with  varied  colored  verdure, 
Touched  with  gold  at  sunset  view ; 
Where  the  waters  of  the  Quaboag, 
Coiling,  wind  the  valley  through, 
There,  on  what  is  called  Mt.  Bunyan, 
Partly  up  its  rugged  height, 
Where  the  air  is  pure  and  bracing, 
Where  the  view  is  quite  enchanting, 
Overlooking  all  the  valley, 
And  the  village  known  as  Palmer, 
Where  the  railroads  form  a  junction, 
Branching  to  the  north  and  southward, 

42 


Clasping  hands  with  east  and  west; 
There  upon  this  Mt.  of  Buriyan, 
In  the  town  of  ancient  Monson, 
Stands  a  mansion  nobly  grand, 
With  its  stories  four  in  number, 
With  its  wings  to  right  and  left 
Turning  backward,  then  again, 
Circling  nearly  round  a  square  ; 
With  its  rooms  so  large  and  airy, 
With  its  halls  so  broad  and  lengthy,. 
With  its  chapel  so  commodious, 
With  its  school-rooms  six  in  number, 
With  its  hospital  for  sickness, 
With  its  office  and  its  shops. 
Where  the  children  recreate, 
With  its  lawns  of  velvet  green 
Shaded  by  the  elm  and  maple. 

Here  the  State  have  formed  a  school,, 
For  the  children  of  the  poor ; 
Those,  who  have  no  homes  to  live  in, 
Those,  who  yielding  to  temptation, 
And  committing  slight  offences, 
Here  are  sent  to  dwell  awhile 
In  this  Primary  School  of  State. 

Here,  they  find  both  home  and  friends, 
Find  a  hand  to  help  them  onward, 
Onward,  up  the  hill  of  science, 
Onward,  up  the  ladder  moral, 
Onward,  till  they  reach  the  summit. 

And  here  they  study,  work,  and  play, 

43 


Much  as  children  elsewhere  do, 
While  the  teachers,  eight  in  number, 
Finding  soil  that  needs  much  culture, 
Soil  that's  rough,  and  soil  quite  shallow, 
Soil  that's  hopeful  for  the  future, 
Sow  the  seed  broadcast  and  plenty, 
Knowing  not  who'll  reap  the  harvest. 

Here,  I'm  tarrying  for  a  while 
And  my  friends,  "The  Social  Readers," 
As  you  meet  with  members  many, 
Here  and  there,  in  each  one's  dwelling, 
Slighting  none  who  kindly  ask  you, 
I  here  send  my  greetings  to  you, 
Praying  that  you  slight  me  not; 
But  my  compliments  receiving, 
In  the  pleasant  month  of  June, 
Month  of  pinks  and  roses  fragrant, 
Gather  in  the  parlors  ample, 
Of  the  Primary  School  of  State, 
On  the  mountain  known  as  Bunyan, 
Near  the  Palmer  railroad  station, 
East  of  Springfield  fifteen  miles, 
There  to  meet  your  friend  and  member. 

MONSO>",  MASS,  June  1st,  1S7:J. 


[On  the  Rededioation  of  a  Church.] 

Behold  our  church  renewed  ; 
Its  walls  of  modest  hue, 
A  pleasant  place. 

44 


And  as  we  gather  here, 
To  gain  from  Pastor  dear, 
Good  words  of  Gospel  cheer, 
Lord,  Give  us  grace ! 

With  gratitude  we  meet, 
Around  this  mercy  seat, 

Father,  draw  near! 
Hear  Thou,  our  joyful  lays, 
Accept  our  heartfelt  praise, 
For  guidance  in  Thy  ways 

Through  all  the  years. 

And  may  the  future  be, 
Blessed  by  Thy  grace  so  free, 

Smile  from  above! 
To  doubting  souls  give  light, 
Here  may  Thy  cause  shine  bright, 
Kept  ever  by  Thy  might, 

Father  of  love. 


DISREGARDED    BLESSINGS. 
Through  verdant  fields  I  roamed  one  day,. 

To  gather  flowers  methought; 
The  modest  bloom  along  the  way, 

The  air  with  fragrance  fraught. 

Though  fair  the  blossoms  at  my  feet, 

To  pluck  I  waited  still, 
For  should  I  not  abundance  meet 

My  hands  at  once  to  fill? 

45 


And  scorning  thus  to  pluck  but  one, 

I  wandered  long  that  day, 
And  failed  to  have  by  set  of  sun, 

The  much  desired  bouquet. 

But  she  who  walked  my  side  along, 

The  very  path  with  me, 
Whose  heart  attuned  with  grateful  song, 

Could  common  blessings  see. 

Slighted  not  the  humblest  flower, 

But  gathered  one  by  one ; 
And  thus  when  came  the  evening  hour, 

Her  hands  with  bloom  o'er  run. 

From  this  would  I  a  lesson  glean, 
God's  blessings  strew  our  way, 

Though  singly  they  but  trifles  seem, 
United,  a  bouquet. 

Accept  each  then  with  thankful  heart, 
Nor  wait  for  showers  of  love, 

Each  humble  gift  will  joy  impart, 
Fore-taste  of  life  above. 


TMONSON,  1873. 


[Birthday  Lines  Addressed  to  a  Gentleman  who  Fifty  Years  Old 
was  Not  Willing  to  Tell  His  Age.] 

As  seventy  years  their  course  have  run, 
Since  first  your  eyes  beheld  the  sun, 
Your  friends  would  join  and  reverence  pay, 
In  celebrating  your  birthday. 

46 


The  Muse  would  join  the  happy  throng, 
And  with  her  voice  the  strain  prolong, 
Wishing  you  in  a  tuneful  lay, 
Many  recurrences  of  the  day, 
Hoping  as  the  years  roll  on  and  o'er, 
You'll  gain  in  wisdom  more  and  more, 
And  when  to  seventy  you  add  a  score, 
Oh  then,  deny  your  age  no  more. 

MOXSON,  1873. 


A  VISIT  TO  ROCHESTER,  N.  Y. 

In  the  lovely  days  of  autumn, 
When  the  leaves  were  golden  tinged, 
When  the  leaves  were  bright  as  scarlet, 
For  the  frost  breath  had  been  roaming, 
Touching  all  the  foliage  green, 
Touching  lightly  the  bright  blossoms, 
Painting  all  the  forest  trees, 
Painting  them  in  rainbow  hues, 
Teaching  them  to  close  their  portals, 
Ere  Old  Boreas  grim  and  stern, 
Bound  them  in  his  icy  fold. 

When  the  summer,  young  and  blooming, 
Summoned  was  to  quit  her  stay, 
And  regretting  that  the  mandate 
Though  so  stern,  she  must  obey, 
Quite  reluctant  halted,  lingered, 
Coquetting  coyed  with  winter  gray, 
Then  returning,  backward  sent 
O'er  the  earth  her  gentle  breath, 


Softening  all  the  chilly  blast, 
Till  the  air  grew  soft  and  mellow, 
Forming  thus  the  Indian  summer. 

In  these  lovely  days  of  autumn, 
Come  I  to  the  forest  city, 
City  of  the  wheaten  mills, 
City  neat,  with  home-like  dwellings, 
With  their  gardens  all  around  them, 
Neatly  kept  and  bright  with  flowers ; 
City  through  which  flows  a  river, 
River  known  as  "Muddy  water," 
River  known  as  "Genesee," 
Flows  and  falls  right  through  the  city  ; 
On  its  banks  are  many  mills, 
Mills  of  stone  where  wheat  is  ground, 
Mills  whose  flour  is  famed  around, 
Mills  that  worked  are,  by  the  water, 
Waters  of  the  Genesee, 
As  it  floweth  to  the  ocean, 
Through  the  Lake  Ontario. 

Here  came  I  one  day  in  autumn, 
Turning  entered  street  St.  Paul, 
Passed  the  old  stone  church  St.  Paul, 
Paused  before  a  noble  dwelling, 
Home  of  the  Clarkson  family, 
Dwelling  shaded  by  ancient  trees, 
Pointing  skyward  were  their  branches ; 
Pointing  high  above  the  dwelling. 
And  the  fruit  trees  rich  were  laden, 
Laden  with  the  fruit  of  autumn, 


48 


And  the  grapevine  covered  arbor,. 
Heavy  hung  with  clusters  rare, 
And  the  sunbeams  stealing  in, 
Flung  their  fragrance  far  and  near,. 
Dotted  was  the  lawn  with  flowers, 
Flowers  bright  with  autumn  tints ; 
Hanging  baskets  graced  the  portals, 
Creeping  vines  the  posts  entwined. 
Singing  birds  gave  forth  their  music, 
Trilling  sweetly  notes  of  cheer. 

in  this  spot  so  like  an  Eden, 
Tarried  I,  kind  friends  among. 
Tarrying,  rested  from  my  labors, 
Chatted  with  the  pleasant  people, 
Read  the  authors  old  and  young, 
Croquetting  strolled  about  the  lawnr 
Drove  around  the  suburbs  fair, 
Strayed  the  pleasant  walks  among  ; 
Climbed  the  winding  stair  to  tower, 
Powers  tower  ascending  high, 
Gazing  far  beheld  the  city, 
City  hid  among  forest  trees ; 
Overlooked  church  spires  towering  high,. 
Gazed  within  each  comic  mirror, 
Admiring  gazed  on  beauty  rare ; 
Rowed  with  friends  upon  the  river, 
Dreaming  rowed  I  down  the  river, 
River  of  the  Genesee, 
Called  by  Indians,  "Muddy  water." 

Gathered  leaves  of  autumn  dye, 

49 


Gathered  memories  long  to  last, 
Memories  of  those  autumn  days. 
Pleasant  was  my  stay  in  R., 
Pleasant  all  the  hours  there  spent. 
Pleasant  was  the  journey  homeward, 
Pleasant  memories  brought  I  back. 

MONSOX,  1874. 


PARTING  THOUGHTS. 

[To  Sister  Teachers  of  the  State  Primary  School  of  Monson.Masa.} 

"We  friends  have  met, 

Like  ships  upon  the  sea, 
Who  hold  an  hour's  converse, 

One  little  hour,  so  short,  so  sweet, 
And  then  away  they  speed  on  lonely  paths 

To  meet  no  more." 

Voyaging  o'er  life's  surging  stream, 
Our  barks  were  brought  together; 

Floated  awhile  with  naught  between, 
Through  changing  tide  and  weather. 

Hailing  each  with  friendly  greeting, 

Pleasantly  we  sailed  aside, 
Stronger  feeling  for  the  meeting, 

Helping  each  to  stem  the  tide. 

But  now  our  paths  diverging  tack, 

The  haven's  hid  from  eye, 
Once  bound  for  that  we  turn  not  back, 

Though  breaking  waves  dash  high. 

50 


As  on  our  course  we  forward  speed, 
Through  changing  tide  and  wind, 

Remembrance  will  often  heed, 
The  pleasures  left  behind. 

We'll  not  regretful  for  them  pine, 

For,  like  the  flowers  past, 
They  shed  their  perfume  in  their  time, 

And  still  the  fragrance  lasts. 

And  should  their  memory  serve  to  light, 

Some  future  shady  hour, 
We'll  view  them  as  a  blessing  bright ; 

Oft  seek  their  magic  power. 

And  should  we  not  together  meet, 
This  side  the  peaceful  shore; 

There  may  we  each,  the  other  greet, 
Where  parting  comes  no  more. 

1874 


WORKING  FOR  THE  LORD. 

"Go  work  today,"  the  Master  said, 
"Work  in  my  vineyard"  all ! 

Lord  by  Thy  Holy  Spirit  led, 
We  would  obey  Thy  call. 

Something  to  do  Thou  hast  for  each, 
Then  who  may  idle  stand, 

Since  perishing  souls  are  in  our  reach, 
Near,  and  in  distant  land? 

51 


'Tie  not  for  all  to  cross  the  sea, 
And  leave  their  friends  most  dear, 

But  here  at  home  for  you  and  me, 
Doth  work  enough  appear. 

Like  those  of  old,  we  may  uphold^ 
The  hands  of  those  that  strive 

To  bring  within  the  Savior's  fold,. 
Souls  brought  by  love  divine. 

Then  sisters,  let  us  work  and  pray> 
Though  few  we  are  and  weak, 

If  willing  we  our  offering  lay, 
A  blessing  it  will  meet. 


[Lines  to  a  Friend  Accompanying  a  Silver  Mustard-cup.]; 

My  friend,  when  you  the  mustard  mix, 

Within  this  little  cup, 
Just  think  of  her  who  gave  it  you, 

Who  oft  with  you  did  sup, 
And  may  the  mustard  of  your  life, 

Be  all  within  the  cup, 
Rather  than  in  your  temper,  dear, 

Contention  to  stir  up. 


[To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Andrew  Howes  on  their  Twenty-fifth  Wedding: 
Anniversary.    July  29th,  1874.] 

Retrospecting  with  "Father  Time," 
As  we  oft  like  to  do, 

52 


We  pause  to  view  in  forty-nine, 
A  pair  of  lovers  true. 

Who,  thinking  'tis  but  half  of  life, 

To  scale  its  steeps  apart, 
Resolved  to  share  the  one  hand  strife, 

By  joining  hand  and  heart. 

And  so,  ray  friends,  you  early  wed, 

As  all  wise  lovers  do, 
And  through  these  many  years  have  led, 

A  constant  life  and  true. 

And  now  behold  in  seventy-four, 
Your  wedding-day  recurring, 

You  ope  to  friends  your  cottage  door, 
To  honor  silver-wedding. 

Not  alone  in  plate  is  silver  found, 
But  on  the  brow  o'erspreading, 

And  e'en  your  love  is  silver  crowned, 
By  years  of  mutual  blending. 

Children  you've  welcomed,  one  by  one, 

Till  six  we  count  tonight; 
Of  daughters  three,  and  three  of  sons, 

Your  hearts  and  home  to  light. 

And  children's  children,  one  at  least, 

With  merry  prattling  song, 
A  little  Robin  here  we  meet, 

Oh!  may  her  life  be  long. 

(They  are,  we  trust,  well  governed  all, 
Since  laws  the  father  makes, 

53 


For  in  the  Legislative  Hall, 
His  seat  has  been  of  late. 

Standing  firm  for  reformation, 
In  all  its  means  and  ways; 

Female  suffrage,  prohibition, 

Ne'er  from  him  received  a  "nay.") 

Now  as  "Old  Time"  his  curcuit  runs, 
This  date  recurring  often, 

Peacefully  may  your  days  glide  on, 
Reaching  the  wedding  golden. 


[Hymn  written  for  and   sung  at  the  Installation  of  Rev.  J    K. 

Ewer,  as  Pastor  of  Salem  Street  Baptist  Church. 

Reading,  Mass.   Sept.  9th,  1874.] 

Our  Father  draw  Thou  near, 

To  bless  Thy  people  here  ; 
Our  Pastor  bless : 

Fill  Thou  his  heart  with  light, 
Direct  him  by  Thy  might, 

To  lead  these  souls  aright, 
In  righteousness. 

May  all  united  be, 
Willing  to  work  with  Thee, 

Thy  name  to  praise. 
Father,  this  church  increase, 

From  sin  all  souls  release, 
Ever  to  live  in  peace, 

Through  endless  days. 

Oh,  may  the  future  be 

Blessed  by  Thy  grace  so  free, — 

54 


Smile  from  above 

On  this  relation  new, 
May  flock,  and  shepherd,  too, 

Their  vows  with  Thee  renew, 
Kept  by  Thy  love. 


[To  Mr.  and  Mrs.   D.  H.  Wacllin  on  their  Twenty-fifth    Wedding 
Anniversary.     Sept.  12th,  1874.] 

Centuries  have  their  cycles  run, 

Since  wedded  love  was  given 
To  bless  the  life  of  man  below, 

A  sweet  foretaste  of  heaven. 

One  fourth  a  century  you  have  proved, 

The  richness  of  this  love; 
And  looking  through  the  vista  passed, 

Wonder  they  have  gone  so  soon. 

Each  added  year  has  deepened  love, 

Proving  the  union  wise; 
Behold  these  children  with  you  here, 

A  pledge  of  wedded  ties. 

Flowers  along  your  path  have  sprung, 

Diffusing  fragrance  rare; 
What  though  a  thorn  at  times  appeared, 

The  rose  was  passing  fair. 

Thus,  'mid  flowers  and  blessings  bright, 

May  future  years  go  on; 
And  love  grow  perfect  as  the  sands 

From  out  life's  glass  shall  run. 


A  WELCOME  TO  OUR  PASTOR  REV.  J.  K.  E. 

Servant  of  God  !  we  welcome  thee 

To  dwell  our  midst  among; 
Our  hearts  and  homes  we  open  free, 

And  warmly  bid  thee  come. 

We  meet  thee  on  the  Christian  ground 

Of  Hock  and  pastor  dear; 
May  Christian  love  alway  abound, 

With  trust  our  hearts  to  cheer. 

Dispensing  thee,  the  living  bread, 

As  found  in  Holy  Writ, 
May  precious  souls  to  Christ  be  led, 

Beneath  His  smile  to  sit. 

Thy  hands  by  prayer  we  would  uphold, 

And  praying  work  with  thee  ; 
In  union  there  is  power  untold, 

May  ours  be  strong  with  thee. 

And  may  the  union  long  endure, 

Blessed  by  the  love  divine, 
His  presence  will  all  good  ensure, 

The  gold  from  dross  refine. 
READING,  MASS.,  Sept.  1874. 


HIGHER  LIFE— A    SIMILE. 

Within  the  narrow  bounds  his  cage 
Did  limit,  an  eagle  dwelt ;  long  years 

56 


Confined  he'd  been  within  its  range, 
His  strength  unused;  the  power  great 
Inborn  in  him  to  soar  and  rise 
Above  mere  common  things  in  life, 
Had  dormant  lain  through  all  these  years. 
Vain  were  to  him  those  pinions  broad, 
And  useless,  aimless,  his  fettered  life. 
His  untamed  nature  chafed  the  power 
Which  held  him  prisoner. 

Thus  time  went  on, — 
At  last  a  hand  unloosed  the  confine 
Of  his  cage,  and  bade  him  go  forth  free. 
Forth  from  his  prison  with  timid,  cautious 
Joy  he  steps,  uncertain  of  the  strength 
Which  had  idle  lain  so  long.  His  wings 
To  action  quite  unused  he  stretched  out 
Tremblingly  at  first,  repeating  oft 
The  motion  till  at  last  the  dormant 
Power  revives ;  through  vein  and  sinew 
New  life  thrills,  and  courage  coming 
With  each  attempt  now  bold  he  grows, 
And  with  a  yearning  strong  for  higher  life, 
Fixes  his  eager  eye  on  heights  above, 
And  with  a  steady  purpose  upward  soars. 
Soaring  up,  and  up,  and  upward  still, 
Stronger  growing  as  he  upward  soars; 
At  last,  'mid  clouds  is  lost  to  sight  — 
Above  the  clouds  soars  strong  and  free 
Exulting  in  his  liberty. 


37 


Thus  man,  by  God  created,  in  His 

Image  made,  with  noble  power  blest, 

To  earth  by  sin  is  pinioned, 

Talents  inborn  in  him,  his  God 

To  glorify,  dormant  lie. 

Love,  which  should  the  world  embrace, 

Is  stinted  to  a  selfish  bound: 

And  where  freedom  should  exist 

Is  narrowness  of  mind.     Where  peace 

And  harmony  should  dwell,  restless 

Discontent  the  spirit  chafes, 

With  longings  unattained  his  life 

Goes  on,  till  by  the  Spirit  touched, 

His  bonds  are  loosed  ;  a  new  life  dawns, 

Powers  long  slumbering  revive, 

The  world  so  full  of  light  and  love 

A  new  creation  seems,  and  he 

A  different  being.     His  shackles 

Fallen,  with  timid  joy  he  tries 

His  strength  to  reach  a  higher  plane, 

And  finds  but  weakness.     Persisting 

In  the  effort  latent  force  returns, 

Which  using,  that,  is  multiplied. 

And  so  he  upward  goes,  upward, 

Upward,  aiming  higher  still — 

And  thus  by  strength  God  given, 

Rising  above  life's  common  things 

Leaves  the  clouds  which  long  had  o'er 

Him  hung  their  lowering  brow,  — 

Above  the  clouds  soars  strong  and  free, 

Exulting  in  the  peace  of  God. 

December  1874. 

58 


THE   FISHERMEN. 

On  the  lake,  the  men  all  night  had  toiled, 
And  taken  nothing,  weary  in  body, 
And  sick  at  heart,  they  approached  the  shore. 
Pressed  by  the  multitude  the  word  to  hear, 
The  Savior  sought  the  ship,  and  putting 
Out  from  land,  the  listening  people  taught. 
Ending  His  lesson,  He  to  Simon  spake  : 
"Launch  out  into  the  deep,  your  nets  let  down  !  '* 

Obedient  to  the  Savior's  voice, 
Though  all  night  they'd  toiled  and  taken  nothing. 
Into  deep  waters  launched  they  forth,  the  net 
Let  down.     No  sooner  was  this  done,  than,  lo  ! 
The  multitude  of  fishes  the  net  did  break. 
As  then  with  Simon,  so  now  with  us, 
The  Savior  present  is ;  and  He  bids  us 
Launch  out;  into  deep  waters  send  our  nets. 
Though  we,  weary  and  sick  with  all  night  toil, 
Fain  would  our  nets  forsake,  the  oars  lay  down, 
Like  Simon,  hearing  the  dear  Master's  voice, 
May  well  reply  with  faith  and  courage  new : 
At  Thy  word  we  will  let  down  the  nets, 
And  lo !  fishers  of  men  we  may  become, 
Precious  souls  save,  and  our  Lord  glorify. 


[To  the  Ladies  of  the  Baptist  Church  in  Behalf  of  the  Women's* 
Missionary  Society.] 

I  will  tell  you  if  you'll  listen, 
Of  our  W omen's  Mission  Circle, 

59 


How  it  was  formed  a  year  ago, 
Formed  to  help  the  heathen  women, 
Women  living  in  heathen  land, 
Living  there  in  utter  darkness, 
Living  there  despised,  degraded ; 
Knowing  naught  of  God  who  made  them, 
Knowing  naught  of  Christ  who  loves  them, 
Knowing  naught  of  Christian  life, 
Living  scarce  above  the  brutes. 

And  such  as  these,  we  should  have  been, 
Without  the  light  of  Gospel  Truth, 
Without  the  foolishness  of  preaching. 

With  these  blessings  all  around  us, 
Blessings  free  for  all  to  share, 
Freeing  us  from  slavish  passions, 
Lifting  us  to  Christian  lives, 
Fitting  us  for  bliss  eternal, 
•Can  we,  dare  we,  refuse  our  aid 
Thus  to  help  our  heathen  sisters, 
-Give  to  them  the  Gospel  teachings, 
Raise  them  from  a  life  degraded, 
Fit  them  for  a  life  eternal? 

Small  the  offering  we  would  ask, 
•Only  two  cents  from  each  weekly, 
Two  cents  weekly  throughout  the  year, 
And  then  a  dollar  will  appear. 

But  methinks  I  hear  one  say, 
Every  cent  at  home  is  needed, 
Times  are  hard  and  money  scarce, 
Sure  we've  naught  to  give  the  heathen. 

60 


Listen  now  to  Christ's  own  teaching,. 
Teaching  full  of  love  and  promise : 
Thy  bread  upon  the  water  cast 
To  find  it  after  many  days, 
"Give,  and  to  you  shall  be  given," 
Measure  full,  pressed  down,  running  o'eiv 
Sell  that  ye  have  and  give  alms, 
Thus  in  heaven  your  treasure  lay. 
And  when  the  ruler  came  to  Christ 
The  way  to  life  eternarasked. 
With  tender  feeling  Christ  replied  : 
"Sell  all  thou  hast,  give  to  the  poor." 
Alas  !  sorrowing  he  went  away 
For  great  were  his  possessions. 

Let  none  of  us  thus  turn  away, 
Away  from  the  Christ  our  Savior, 
And  thus  refuse  the  blessing  sought, 
Through  love  of  worldly  treasure. 
But  rather  let  us  bring  our  goods, 
According  as  God  has  blest  us ; 
The  widow's  mite  accepted  is 
Alike  with  the  rich  man's  bounty. 

Should  these  younger  sisters  ask  me. 
How  they  from  weekly  earnings  small, 
For  the  heathen  aught  can  offer  ? 
I  would  thus  my  answer  give  them : 
Wear  on  your  dress  one  ruffle  less, 
Your  hat  without  a  feather ; 
No  ribbon  crown  your  head  of  hair, 
No  gew-gaws  deck  your  person, 

61 


No  candy  pass  your  lips  between. 
With  these  few  rules  quite  strictly  kept, 
Throughout  the  year  now  opening, 
You'll  find,  my  friends,  I'm  quite  assured, 
More  than  the  two  cents  ready, 
And  for  each  sacrifice  you  make 
A  blessing  will  surely  follow. 

1875. 


WRITTEN  FOR  A  MARRIAGE  RECEPTION. 

How  incomplete  was  God's  great  work, 

Till  wedded  love  was  given 
To  bless  the  life  of  man  below, — 

A  sweet  foretaste  of  Heaven. 

His  wisdom  saw  it  was  not  good 

For  man  alone  to  be, 
So  crowned  His  own  creative  work 

By  woman, — fair  was  she. 

'Twas  at  a  marriage  that  the  Christ, 
When  wiwe  in-vain  was  sought, 

Honored  the  rite  by  power  divine, 
His  first  great  miracle  wrought. 

Oh,  happy  marriage!  blessed  indeed 

By  presence  from  above  ; 
Oh!  sacred  rite,  supremely  blest 

By  God's  own  Son  of  love. 

And  is  He  not  with  us  this  eve, 
To  bless  this  couple  here? 

62 


Surely  as  at  the  Cana  feast, 
Though  unseen  He  is  here. 

Yes,  He  will  bless  your  marriage  vows, 

Witnessed  by  Him  above; 
His  benediction  fills  your  cup 

With  wine  of  Holy  love. 

Should  passing  shade  flit  o'er  your  sky, 

His  love  the  cloud  will  line; 
And  thus  the  shade  will  seem  to  make 

The  sun  more  brightly  shine. 

Now,  as  you've  launched  your  wedded  bark 

To  stem  the  tide  together, 
His  watchful  hand  the  helm  will  guide 

Securely,  through  all  weather. 

With  such  a  pilot  at  the  helm, 
Though  unseen  be  the  haven, 

Triumphantly  the  waves  you'll  ride 
Till  anchored  safe  in  Heaven. 

Sept.  1875. 


.Hymn   Sung  at  the  Dedication  of  Centennial   Hall,   Nashville, 
Tenn.] 

Our  Father  and  our  Lord, 
We  would  with  one  accord, 
Thy  presence  seek. 

Giver  of  Liberty 
We  dedicate  to  Thee 
This  building,  let  it  be 

Thy  mercy  seat. 

63 


Long  may.  this  structure  stand, 
An  honor  to  our  land 

And  Thee  above. 
Here  Father  show  Thy  face, 
Kept  ever  by  Thy  grace 

O  Lord,  of  love. 

Our  hearts  with  joy  o'er  run, 
For  all  Thy  love  has  done, 

Oh,  heavenly  Friend. 
We'll  praise  Thee  for  the  past, 
We'll  trust  Thee  to  the  last, 
Thy  hand  hold  firm  and  fast, 

Even  to  the  end. 

Sept..  1876. 


A  LESSON  FROM  A  CHILD. 

While  musing  in  my  room  alone, 
The  day's  toil  scarce  begun, 

I  thought  how  little  seed  I'd  sown, 
What  feeble  work  I'd  done. 

How  little  that  my  Father  kind, 
Could  love  to  look  upon; 

How  little  there  that  He  could  find1 
To  merit  His,  "Well  done." 

And  yet  I  knew  with  zeal  I  tried, 

My  talent  to  increase; 
O'er  frequent  errors  oft  had  sighed, 

And  from  them  sought  release, — 

64 


When  bounding  to  my  side  just  thenr 

With  eyes  of  heavenly  blue, 
Came  darling,  loving,  little  Nell, 

With  flowers  of  varied  hue. 
Oh,  see  the  blossoms  I  have  brought, 

All  sparkling  fresh  with  dew  ; 
Over  the  hill  and  vale  I  sought, 

And  plucked  each  one  for  you. 
My  darling  I  drew  to  my  heart, 

Her  face  with  joy  was  beaming, 
I  knew  her  young  and  artless  heart,. 

With  love  for  me  was  teeming. 
So  the  gift  she  brought  to  me, 

I  took  with  tender  heed  ; 
What  matter  that  they  proved  to  be,. 

Nothing  but  common  weeds  ? 
'Twas  the  best  the  child  could  do, 

Within  her  narrow  sphere; 
The  simple  act  of  love  so  true, 

Taught  me  a  lesson  here. 
'Tis  thus  our  Father  from  above, 

Reading  our  motives  clear, 
Accepts  our  feeble  acts  of  love, 

Though  seeming  worthless  here,, 
If  doing  them  we  do  our  best, 

Though  crude  and  common  all; 
But  trusting  God  we  in  Him  rest,. 

Obey  His  humblest  call. 
PBOVIDKNCE,  R.  I.,  Sept.,  '76. 

65 


GIVING. 

Richest  blessings  daily  meet  us 
From  the  hand  of  love  above, 
Falling  in  abundant  measure, 
On  the  creatures  of  His  love. 
Clothing  the  earth  with  beauty  fair, 
Freely  the  sun  gives  heat  and  light; 
Moon  and  stai-s  though  feebler  far, 
Scatter  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

Kef  rain. 

Be  not  weary  then  in  giving, 
Giving  as  the  Lord  doth  give, 
Giving  freely  of  our  living, 

Give  for  Him,  then  with  Him  live. 

• 
Singing  birds  give  forth  their  music, 

Joyful  in  the  light  of  day, 
Sweetest  flowers  lend  their  fragrance, 
While  their  beauty  cheers  our  way; 
Earth  of  its  abundance  yielding, 
Gives  alike  of  good  to  all, 
Sowing  freely  in  the  spring-time, 
You  a  harvest  reap  in  fall. 

Surely  man  by  grace  endowed, 
Giving  may  not  stay  his  hand. 
Justly  as  the  Lord  has  dealt, 
Scatter  broadcast  o'er  the  land. 
Of  your  prayers  and  alms,  oh!  give, 
Freely  give  of  charity, 

66 


Words  of  love  and  courage  give; 
Doing  all  in  purity. 

1877. 


MEMORIAL  HYMN. 

A  nation  pauses  this  spring-day, 
Stays  for  a  while  its  wheels  of  toil, 
Reverently  its  gift  to  lay, 
Oa  the  dear  graves  in  honored  soil. 

We  love  this  tribute  thus  to  bring, 
In  memory  of  our  heroes  gone; 
Long  as  we  live,  we  fain  would  sing, 
Their  loyal  deeds  in  grateful  song. 

They  nobly  for  our  country  fought, 
And  for  our  country,  bravely  fell; 
The  blessings  that  their  labor  wrought, 
Nations  unborn  will  love  to  tell. 

We  honor  not  alone  the  dead 
But  all,  who  loved  our  country  true; 
And  for  it  fought,  and  willing  bled, 
We  honor  all,  "The  boys  in  blue." 

And  we  will  prize  this  freedom  dear, 
Freedom  by  precious  blood  twice  bought. 
Our  fathers  blood  was  shed  once  here; 
We  thank  the  Lord  for  what  He's  wrought. 

As  year  by  year  we  wend  our  way, 

Each  soldier's  green  turf  grave  bedecking, 

67 


We  find  that  each  Memorial  Day, 
Brings  new  ones  to  our  careful  reckoning. 

Directing  us  there  meets  our  view, 
(Its  sacred  vigil  constant  keeping,) 
The  banner  dear,  red,  white  and  blue, 
Where  patriot  sons  lie  silent,  sleeping. 

And  thus  our  ranks  are  thinning  fast, 
As  one  by  one,  is  bidden  "Home" ; 
And  soon  the  reaping  will  be  past. 
Full  well  we  know  that  time  must  come. 

1877. 


[To  Miss  E.  R.,  a  Member  of  the  Social  Readers  on  her  Fiftieth 
Birthday.    July  16th,  1877. 

In  Dorchester,  Mass.,  that  good  old  town, 
Whose  fame  is  known  the  country  round, 
I'm  told,  my  friend,  that  you  were  born, 
Though  I  know  not  was  it  night  or  mornj* 
Or,  what  your  previous  form  had  been, 
Whether  ape,  or  bird,  care  not  a  pin; 
Turning  rather  to  the  fifty  years, 
Since  you  became  a  biped  here; 
And  from  a  wee  infant  grew  apace, 
As  others  do  of  the  human  race; 
Through  teething,  measles,  and  the  mumps, 
You  passed  in  safety,  including  bumps. 
Your  childish  freaks,  you  had  no  doubt, 
And  now  and  then,  indulged  in  pouts ; 

68 


But  all  things  pass  away,  away, 

And  so,  did  these,  and  childhood  days. 

And  then  to  teach  the  young  idea 

In  Slab  City  you  had  no  fear; 

But  next  we  find  you  in  a  store, 

Displaying  goods,  instead  of  lore. 

Another  move,  and  a  change  of  State, 

Where  wooden  nutmegs  grew  of  late; 

What  freaks  of  fortune  and  of  fate, 

Befell  you  there,  I'll  not  relate, 

And  why  you  did  not  choose  to  mate, 

Is  not  my  business,  any  rate. 

But  shortly  to  this  town  you  came, 

And  set  up  business  in  the  same; 

Lo,  here  a  wonder  shows  itself, 

That  you've  not  lacked  the  sordid  pelf 

Through  all  these  twenty  years  and  more, 

To  pay  your  debts  and  something  more; 

Your  note  has  ne'er  protested  been 

Because  you  failed  to  have  the  tin; 

But  through  the  ups  and  downs  of  trade, 

You've  kept  along,  about  the  same. 

For  reasons  good,  I  know  not  what, 
To  be  a  woman  was  your  lot; 
Thus  the  privilege  you  never  had, 
To  cast  your  vote  for  good  or  bad, 
And  for  the  State  ne'er  held  an  office, 
Though  in  that  line  you  are  no  novice, 
As  many  here  can  witness  bear 
In  private  life  you've  had  your  share  — 

69 


Director,  Vice,  President,  too, 
And  always  zealous  proved  and  true. 
With  "Liberal  Ladies"  you  have  worked, 
And  from  your  duty  never  shirked. 
No  reading-band  was  quite  complete, 
When  you  filled  not  the  critic's  seat. 
In  heat,  in  cold,  by  moonlight  bright, 
In  mud,  in  slosh,  the  darkest  night 
You  bent  you  steps,  now  here,  now  there, 
To  read  and  hear  thoughts  new  and  rare. 

Another  wonder  I  will  show, 
That  you  are  willing  all  should  know 
Your  age  ;   it's  that  which  brought  us  here, 
To  celebrate  your  fiftieth  year. 
Through  all  these  years  a  maiden  free, 
By  your  own  choice  you've  dared  to  be, 
Proving  that  alone  to  walk  life's  path, 
Than  ill-mated  be,  is  better  by  half. 
Now,  when  you  to  the  nineties  come, 
We  hope  to  meet  you  in  your  home, 
A  palatial  mansion  on  Lake  View, 
Where  your  friends  will  gather  not  a  few, 
To  celebrate  once  more  the  day, 
When  you,  my  friend,  first  came  this  way. 


Now  Emily,  as  your  friends,  we 
A  little  offering  bring, 

A  letter  we  have  writ,  you  see, 
'Tis  but  a  trifling  thing, 

70 


And  yet  when  you  have  conned  it  o'er, 

And  learned  each  secret  hid, 
Perhaps  my  friend,  you'll  "ask  for  more," 

Ag  Oliver  Twist  once  did. 
Just  how  this  secret  to  invest, 

I'll  answer  for  us  all, 
(That  on  the  subject  you  may  rest;) 

Go  buy  an  India  shawl, 
Or,  if  your  taxes  are  unpaid, 

A  heavy  weight  to  bear, 
To  cancel  them  be  not  afraid, 

And  thus  relieve  a  care. 

Or,  would  you  like  a  trip  to  take, 

To  gain  new  strength,  you  know, 
To  sea-side,  mountain,  or  the  lake, 

Just  take  this  note  and  go. 
Or,  would  you  rather  let  it  be, 

Against  your  wedding  tour, 
To  that  we  gladly  will  agree, 

And  wish  you  joy,  I'm  sure. 


WRITTEN  FOR  A  SILVER  WEDDING. 

Like  halting  places  on  a  toilsome  road, 

These  anniversaries  are; 
Where,  pausing  we  throw  off  our  'customed  load, 

And  gazing  down  the  vista  far, 
Reviewing  all  the  past,  new  courage  gain, 

To  help  us  on  o'er  hill,  and  pleasant  plain.  » 


Thus  you,  ray  friends,  through  five  and  twenty  years 

Of  wedded  life,  look  back  tonight, 
And  record  make  of  joys,  as  well  as  tears, — 

Though  clouds  anon  o'er  cast  the  light, 
Through   darkness  broke   the  sun  in   God's  own 

time, 
And  after  storm  brighter  seemed  the  sunshine. 

'Mong  the  toilers  you  early  found  your  place, 

And  reaching  out  to  those  around, 
Have  sought  to  help  your  neighbor  in  the  race, 

Where  heavenly  comfort  you  have  found; 
Thus  working,  your  own  souls  have  nobler  been, 
And  holy  joy  and  peace  have  reigned  within. 

Now  looking  onward  from  your  stand  tonight, 
With  hearts  enlarged  and  full  of  love, 

Hopefully  you  gaze  with  pure  deJight 
Beyond  the  mist,  to  that  home  above, 

Where  after  life's  work,  you  may  sweetly  rest, 

And  live  the  perfect  life  among  the  blest. 


[Lines  Written  for  and  read  at  the  Thirteenth  Reunion  of  the 
Mass.  21st  Regiment.    1877.] 

Ho!  veterans  of  the  twenty-first, 

We  gladly  come  today, 
To  spend  an  hour  of  social  mirth 

And  bring  our  humble  lay; 
The  Muse  is  proud  to  meet  with  you, 

And  willing  lends  her  hand, 

72 


To  cheer  with  words  of  valor  true, 
The  heroes  of  our  land. 

Dearer  grown  is  our  country  fair, 

.Since  by  your  arms  defended; 
And  rich  the  blessings  and  more  rare, 

While  love  and  hope  are  blended. 
We  would  not  fight  old  battles  o'er, 

But  let  them  buried  be, 
From  scenes  of  war  and  cannons  roar, 

May  we  be  ever  free. 

Since  all  our  land  of  peace  can  tell, 

Our  hearts  with  joy  overflow, 
The  darkened  past  we'll  blot  out  well, 

And  naught  but  good  will  sow, 
Since  bloody  war  we  wage  not  now, 

We'll  wage  the  war  with  sin, 
Till  to  the  truth  all  else  shall  bow, 

And  love  shall  dwell  within. 

That  in  the  future  we  may  be, 

A  nation  strong  and  pure, 
And  this  the  heritage  shall  be, 

To  all  who  may  endure 
No  north,  or  south,  no  east  or  west, — 

Oh!  then  the  victory! 
A  country  grand,  supremely  blest, — 

A  future  noble,  free. 


[To  Mr.  D.  H.  W.  on  His  Fifty-eighth  Birthday.] 

Through  our  kind  Father's  love  and  care, 

Life's  wondrous  threads,  so  frail  and  fair, 

73 


To  each  of  us  are  given  ; 
And  artless  hands  the  shuttles  ply, 
To  weave  a  web  that  ne'er  will  die, 

Progressing  e'en  in  Heaven. 

Sometimes  when  passions  stir  the  soul, 
Or  waves  of  trouble  o'er  it  roll, 

Unsightly  flaws  appear; 
Then  gaining  skill  as  we  go  on, 
The  wool  and  warp  more  smoothly  run, 

The  tangles  disappear. 

For  eight  and  fifty  years,  my  friend, 
Weaving  this  web  of  life  you've  been, 

By  love  and  duty  led; 
When  unskilled  hands  the  shuttles  plied, 
How  often,  often,  have  you  sighed, 

Seeing  the  tangled  threads. 

Then  with  the  past  before  your  view, 
You  wove  again,  with  courage  new, 

A  better  work  to  do  ; 
By  patient  care,  with  help  Divine, 
The  texture  grew  then,  smooth  and  fine, 

The  tracings  far  more  true. 

Now  with  hands  made  strong  and  willing, 
Fill  the  rest  with  a  golden  filling 

For  all  eternity  ; 

For  the  weaving  here  will  soon  be  o'er, 
Continuing  on  the  other  shore, 

Perfected  there  to  be. 

1878. 

74 


MEMORIAL  HYMN.     May   1878. 
Our  honored  dead!  again  we  con\e, 

Their  memories  fresh  to  keep  ; 
Again  our  floral  offerings  bring, 

To  strew  the  graves  wherein  they  sleep. 
Though  simple  as  the  act  may  seem, 

'Tis  a  tribute  from  the  heart, 
To  our  country's  cherished  martyrs, 
Who  for  freedom,  bore  their  part. 

Fresh  as  these  blooms,  our  love  remains, 

While  years  have  onward  rolled; 
Sweet  as  these  blooms,  the  memory  dear,. 

Of  our  heroes  still  we  hold.  • 

As  yearly  to  this  spot  we  come, 

Our  loyal  love  attesting, 
We  learn  how  priceless  was  the  work, 

Of  those  who  here  are  resting. 

Our  honored  dead,  their  work  is  done, 

While  ours  is  yet  to  do ; 
They  fought  the  war  of  blood  and  strife,. 

And  won  the  victory  too. 
'Tis  ours  to  wage  the  war  with  sin, 

From  evil  free  our  land, 
Then  marshal  all  the  good  and  true, 

A  heroic  loyal  band. 

That  in  the  future  we  may  be, 

A  people  pure  and  strong; 
And  this  the  heritage  shall  be, 

To  those  who  conquer  wrong  : 

75 


-A  nation  free  from  party  strife, 
Ohfthen  the  victory  grand, 

A  noble  country,  richly  blest, 
Far  famed  and  honored  land. 


[To  a  Gentleman  on  His  Fiftieth  Birthday.] 

Half  a  century!  yes,  fifty  years, 
Life's  battles  you  have  fought, 
The  many  victories  wrought 

Were  bought  with  sacrifice  and  tears. 

•Childhood,  then  youth,  and  manhood,  now, 

'Tis  full  meridian  time, 

Silver  hair,  deepened  line, 
As  marks  of  honor  crown  your  brow. 

Though  fifty  years  you've  fought  so  well, 

The  test  will  not  be  o'er 

Till  anchored  on  the  shore 
Where  care  and  trouble  never  dwell. 

Then  gird  your  armor  on  anew, 

With  courage  make  it  bright 

To  battle  for  the  right, 
And  keep  your  heart  warm,  pure  and  true. 

Then  will  old  age  be  very  bright, 

And  like  the  purest  wine, 

Which  richer  grows  by  time, 
Assume  at  last  a  flavor  rare. 

JVIar.,1870 

76 


DIFFERENT    WAYS. 
How  unlike  ours  were  the  ways, 
In  ancient  times,  our  grandsires  days. 
About  the  Sabbath  spent  so  well, 
I  purpose  now  a  bit  to  tell. 
The  children  went  on  foot  to  church, 
And  toed  the  mark,  or  felt  the  birch  ; 
The  men  then  i*ode  upon  horseback, 
The  wife  behind  on  a  pillion  sat ; 
In  winter  time  a  foot-stove  took, 
For  with  the  cold  they  often  shook,, 
Putting  inside  a  large  bright  coal, 
Then  some  ashes,  the  heat  to  hold. 
In  summer  time,  each  took  with  heedr 
Sprigs  of  lovage,  or  caraway  seed, 
To  nibble  as  they  went  along, 
And  during  sermon  time  and  song. 
They  worshiped  God  on  hard  board  seats,. 
And  turned  them  up  when  on  their  feet ; 
When  all  the  people  rose  and  sang, 
Up  went  the  seats  with  quite  a  bang. 
The  tunes  with  metre  long  and  short, 
Were  started  with  a  tuning  fork ; 
Each  one  with  hand  the  time  did  beatj 
Or,  sometimes  tapped  it  with  their  feet. 
They  stood  through  prayers,  both  short  and  long, 
To  sit  in  prayer  were  deemed  a  wrong  ; 
The  preacher  in  a  box  stood  high, 
With  sounding-board  his  head  quite  nigh  ; 
The  sermons  were  of  marvelous  length, 
Displaying  talent  and  great  strength ;, 

77 


And  frightful  to  the  children  small, 

Was  the  tithing-man  with  staff  so  tall, 

For  when  the  parson  preaching  well, 

•Of  twentieth  began  to  tell, 

And  they  to  fidget  in  their  seats, 

Rapping,  he  pointed  their  eye  to  meet. 

When  the  morning  service  was  o'ej-, 

They  gathered  all  around  the  door  ; 

The  men  talked  of  weather  and  the  crops, 

The  price  of  potatoes,  beans  and  hops ; 

•"The  grass  was  growing  rank  and  tall, 

Would  have  a  heavy  crop  in  fall ;" 

•"  That  last  shower  came  just  in  time  ;  " 

•"  Squire  Jones  had  bought  some  oxen  fine." 

The  women  talked  of  this  and  that, 

Eating  their  luncheon  while  they  sat. 

•One  told  of  someone  very  ill, 

Had  the  doctor,  who  gave  blue  pill. 

•"The  deacon's  folks  the  measles  had  ;" 

•"Polly  Smith's  cough  was  proper  bad." 

Then  when  the  hour  for  lunch  was  o'er, 

They  took  their  seats  much  as  before, 

And  listened  to  a  sermon  long, 

Mingled  with  prayers,  and  psalms  and  song. 

The  service  o'er  they  homeward  went, 

But  ere  the  day  was  fully  spent, 

Some  time  they  took  by  light  of  candle, 

Theological  snarls  to  untangle. 

Ere  the  children  to  bed  were  sent, 

All  through  the  catechism  they  went, 

78 


Learning  what  man's  chief  end  should  be, 

About  adoption,  and  decrees, 

Election,  justification, 

Free  grace,  and  santitication. 

Thus  was  the  Sabbath  spent  so  well 

In  olden  times  I've  heard  them  tell. 

Now  view  the  change  that  time  has  wrought, 

And  all  the  comforts  it  has  brought. 

We  ride  to  church  in  carriage  fine, 

Quite  glad  we  live  in  modern  time  ; 

Carpeted  aisles  make  soft  the  tread, 

As  to  our  seats  by  ushers  led  ; 

The  pews  all  cushioned  soft  appear; 

The  tuneful  organ  greets  our  ear, 

And  while  the  quartette  sing  and  trill, 

We  of  sweet  music  drink  our  fill. 

The  sermons  brief  and  polished  sound, 

From  cultured  lips,  with  periods  round. 

And  as  we  sit  in  prayer,  or  song, 

The  service  cannot  weary  long. 

So  at  its  close  we  stay  awhile, 

To  study  'bout  the  Bible  times, 

Then  in  the  porch  we  stop  awhile, 

Much  as  they  did  in  olden  time. 

Then  to  our  homes  we  speed  away, 

To  spend  the  P.  M.  as  we  may ; 

Some  like  to  sleep,  or  read,  or  talk, 

Others  prefer  to  ride,  or  walk. 

Each  spends  the  time  as  seemeth  well, 

In  various  ways  I  may  not  tell. 


When  the  evening  comes  along, 
We  meet  again  for  prayer  or  song  ; 
Then  lads  selecting  each  a  lass, 
Escort  them  home  by  light  of  gas. 
Now  to  the  future  let  us  look, 
And  take  a  peep  within  that  book. 
Its  pages  are  uncut  you  see, 
But  they  will  ope  for  you  and  mer 
Disclosing  wonders  very  great, 
Which  I  will  now,  to  you  relate. 
No  churches  then  will  meet  the  eye, 
With  steeple  towering  to  the  sky, 
No  clanging  bell  will  then  be  heard, 
The  Sabbath  quiet  to  disturb. 
Sabbath  day's  journey  one  need  not  take, 
But  only  a  ride  for  pleasure's  sake, 
Since  church  going  is  no  more, 
Pronounced  by  all  to  be  a  bore. 
The  mother  sits  the  cradle  by, 
The  father  in  the  hammock  lies, 
The  fragrant  air  denotes  the  brand, 
Of  choice  cigar  within  his  hand. 
'Mid  puffs  of  smoke  he  turns  a  crank, 
Forth  comes  a  sermon  of  highest  rank. 
Eloquent  and  terse,  it  stirs  the  heai-t, 
Thanks,  thanks,  to  phonographic  art. 
Then  wishing  some  fine  tune  to  hear, 
They  place  the  telephone  to  the  ear, 
And  sweetest  strains  of  music  thrill, 
And  heart  and  soul  with  rapture  fill ; 

80 


From  far  away  the  voice  may  come,, 
But  each  can  hear  it  in  their  home. 
Now  which  way  think  you  is  best, 
To  spend  the  day  of  holy  rest? 


[To  a  Lady  on  her  One  Hundred  and  Fourth  Birthday.  Oct.  12,1879.}, 

The  years  are  one  hundred  and  four, 

Since  life  to  you  was  given, 
And  as  you  look  the  decades  o'er, 

Let  praise  ascend  to  heaven. 

Just  let  us  backward  take  a  look, 

One  hundred  years  or  more, 
Our  country  then  by  war  was  shook,. 

By  force  from  foreign  shore. 

Then  followed  peace  with  quiet  tread, 

And  liberty  so  true,  • 
Enjoying  which  men's  minds  were  led, 

To  seek  inventions  new. 

Printing  and  steam,  each  took  their  turnr 

To  help  the  onward  move, — 
By  telegraph  we  soon  could  learn, 

All  things  beneath  the  moon. 

In  household  arts,  advance  was  made, 

As  you  can  well  attest, 
For  spinning-wheel  and  loom  are  laid, 

In  attic  now  to  rest. 


81 


Instead  of  roasting  o'er  the  coals, 

With  face  all  red  with  heat, 
In  stove  or  range  we  bake  our  rolls, 

And  also  cook  our  meat. 

Again,  the  curse  of  war  was  laid, 

Upon  our  country  dear ; 
And  life  and  blood,  the  price  they  paid, 

For  freedom  far  and  near. 

Now  with  the  loyal  stripes  and  stars, 

Through  all  the  land  unfurled, 
Onward's  the  watchward  near  and  far, 

Discovering  things  unheard. 

By  phonograph  and  telephone, 

Which  Edison  has  found  out, 
From  distant  friends  we  hear  their  tone, 

And  learn  what  they're  about. 

And  you  have  lived  these  changes  through,- 

Another  still  I  note. 
It  comes  this  year  unique  and  new  ; 

Yes,  women  now  can  vote. 

How  broad  a  range  your  life  looks  o'er ; 

Events  of  mighty  weight, 
Have  shook  the  land  from  shore  to  shore, 

And  make  the  century  great. 

And  now  your  labor  all  complete, 

Upon  the  brink  you  stand, 
Waiting  the  call  loved  ones  to  meet, 

And  join  the  spirit  band. 

82 


[To  the  Keeper  of  the  Town  Farm  and  His  Wife.] 

What  a  lot  of  tramps  you  have  to-night, 

And  rather  strange  ones,  too; 
The  fathers  of  the  town  I  see, 

And  others  not  a  few. 
To  sup  on  crackers  and  ginger-tea, 

Is  that  what  brought  them  here? 
Not  that,  but  'tis  your  wedding  eve, 

They  come  to  wish  good  cheer. 
You,  Sir,  our  ways  have  looked  to  well, 

In  cold  and  summer  heat, 
In  your  own  paths  we  oft  have  walked, 

And  thus  preserved  our  feet. 
Since  all  may  follow  in  your  path, 

Pray  make  it  straight  and  well, 
For  if  the  fathers  crooked  go, 

How  sad  a  thing  to  tell. 

And  when  the  night  was  dark  and  drear, 

You've  lighted  up  our  way, 
Thus  travel  we  without  a  fear, 

By  night  as  well  as  day. 

And,  madam,  you  have  oft  been  found, 

Beside  the  sick  bed  here, 
To  tend,  and  soothe,  and  lend  a  hand, 

Your  neighbor's  heart  to  cheer. 

Now  fill  the  bowl,  the  ginger  bowl, 
And  heap  the  crackers  high, 

We'd  rather  quaff  hot  ginger  tea, 
Than  eat  our  crackers  dry. 

83 


We  drink  your  health  in  the  steaming  bowl, 

And  wish  you  much  of  joy, 
May  many  be  the  years  you  spend 

Together,  with  your  boy. 

Jan.  21st,  1880. 


[Lines  Written  for  a  Young  Girl  who  in  behalf  of  her  School 
mates  Presented  the  Teacher  with  two  books  at  the  close 
of  the  School  term.] 

In  the  pleasant  field  of  knowledge, 
We  have  walked  another  term, 

Culled  from  out  its  varied  treasures, 
Many  things  we  need  to  learn. 

Tho'  careless  we  have  often  been, 

And  your  spirit  sorely  tried, 
Yet  your  patience  ne'er  forsook  you, 

On  your  love  we  could  rely. 

When  the  path  seemed  rough  or  gloomy, 
'Twas  your  hand  that  smoothed  the  way, 

Thus  the  hard  spots  were  made  easy, 
And  the  dark  was  turned  to  day. 

Now  this  morn  in  looking  over, 
All  the  hours  we  here  have  spent, 

Every  one  has  held  a  treasure, 
And  a  charm  to  each  was  lent. 

In  fond  memory's  choicest  corner, 
All  these  things  we'll  stow  away, 

To  renew  them  in  the  future, 
Just  to  brighten  some  dull  day. 

84 


These  books  of  poems,  teacher  dear, 

We  would  like  to  have  you  take 
As  token  of  our  love  sincere, 

And  keep  them  for  our  sake. 
And  sometimes  as  you  look  them  o'er, 

As  the  years  go  rolling  on, 
Just  think  of  those  who  gave  them  you, 

Your  pupils  of  eighty-one. 


[Hymn  Written  and  Sung  at  the  Centennial  Anniversary  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church.    Woburn  Mass.,  July  1881.] 

O  Lord!  we  thank  Thee  for  Thy  love, 

For  all  Thy  love  has  wrought, 
We  thank  Thee,  that  this  church  was  formed, 

And  through  a  century  brought. 
We  thank  Thee,  for  the  souls  here  saved, 

Saved  by  Thy  love  and  power ; 
We  thank  Thee,  for  Thy  presence  here, 

We  thank  Thee  for  this  hour. 
Let  all  these  tongues  break  forth  and  sing, 

Sing  praises  to  the  Lord; 
For  blessings  all  these  many  years, 

Join  each  with  one  accord. 
Oh!  praise  the  Lord,  for  pastors  dear, 

Praise  Him  for  prayer  and  song, 
Praise  Him  for  hours  of  worship  here, 

Let  praise  the  song  prolong. 
We  humbly  crave  Thy  presence  still, 

To  guide  and  light  our  way; 

85 


Abide  with  us,  oh  Lord,  we  pray, 
Abide,  both  night  and  day. 

Then  will  the  future  as  the  past, 
To  souls  a  blessing  be, 

This  church  a  chosen  scion  prove, 
Through  all  eternity. 


ON  MY  FIFTIETH  BIRTHDAY. 
Today  I'm  more  than  half  way  home, 
More  than  half  of  life's  journey  o'er, 
More  than  half  of  its  battles  fought, — 
I  am  nearing  the  other  shore ; 
Nearing  the  bright  home  above, 
Where  so  many  dwell  I  love. 
The  past  I  willing  leave  behind, 
As  flowers  when  their  freshness  gone, 
Are  cast  away,  still  memory 
Holds  the  perfume  known  so  long; 
Yet  may  those  along  the  way 
Prove  as  bright  and  sweet  as  they. 

May  22nd,  1882. 


[To  Uncle  Samuel  and  Aunt  Emily  Gowing  on  their  Golden  Wed 
ding  Anniversary.] 

Into  my  hand  was  placed  one  day, 
A  card  with  edge  of  gilt, 
And  on  it  I  found  writ, 
A  welcome  to  your  wedding  day. 

86 


And  so  this  fine  December  night, 

With  wishes  kind  and  true, 

We  willing  come  to  you, 
Within  your  cosy  home  so  bright. 

Gladly  we  meet  your  children  here, 
Your  pride  and  comfort,  too, 
And  little  ones  a  few 

Whose  tender  love  your  hearts  will  cheer. 

We  miss  the  dear  old  home  of  yore, 
Its  noble  elms  so  grand 
Spreading  o'er  house  and  land, 

With  its  generous  yard  before. 

We  miss  the  great  rooms  of  your  sire, 
The  beaufet  in  the  corner, 
The  tall  clock  in  good  order, 

The  wainscotted  walls,  and  wood  fire. 

We  miss  them,  yet  are  glad  to  see, 
Your  pleasant  home  so  new, 
With  comforts  not  a  few, 

And  hope  you  long  may  happy  be. 

Here  let  all  care  and  worry  cease, 

Let  faith  and  hope  abound, 

Charity  to  all  around; 
And  thus  the  eve  of  life  be  peace. 

Dec.  31st,  1882. 


DEDICATION  HYMN. 

Lord,  we  dedicate  to  Thee, 
This  building  may  it  be 

87 


Thy  dwelling  place  ; 
Here  may  we  love  to  meet, 
Hei-e  may  we  ever  seek 
Thy  gracious  mercy  seat, 

Thy  love  embrace. 

Here  contrite  prayer  ascend 
Through  Christ,  our  Savior,  friend, 

To  Thee  above ; 
Here  sinners  feel  Thy  grace, 
And  humbly  seek  Thy  face, 
Enlist  to  run  the  race, 

Kept  by  Thy  love. 

Long  may  this  structure  stand, 
An  honor  to  our  land 

And  Thee  above  ; 
Lord,  keep  it  from  all  harm, 
Protected  by  Thine  arm, 
We  ne'er  will  feel  alarm, 

But  rest  in  love. 


[A  Short  Chapter  of  History  from  the  Old  Bay  State  to  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  McC.,  of  North  Berwick,  Maine.] 

Some  years  ago  to  the  Bay  State  came, 

A  beardless  youth,  from  way  down  Maine  ; 

A  former  pastor  he  came  to  see, 

The  pastor  and  all  his  family. 

It  chanced  that  eve,  some  friends  were  there, 

And  'mong  them  came  a  maiden  fair, 


With  sparkling  eye  and  pleasant  mien; 
A  treasure  to  this  youth  she  seemed. 
In  fact,  old  Cupid  sent  a  dart, 
That  pierced  alike  each  youthrul  heart. 
And  thus  for  years  it  came  to  pass, 
The  youth  oft  came  to  see  this  lass. 
Then  came  a  time  I  well  remember, 
Twas  the  first  day  of  old  December, 
The  young  man  came  and  took  away 
His  bride,  from  the  state  of  Old  Bay; 
On  the  banks  of  the  Kennebec  stream, 
They  settled  down  to  live  love's  dream. 
He  took  to  drugs,  and  the  making  of  pills, 
With  lotions  and  bitters  to  cure  life's  ills ; 
And  then  he  went  to  Bowdoin  College, 

O      ' 

To  store  his  brain  with  useful  knowledge, 

To  learn  the  functions  of  the  heart, 

The  nerve,  the  eye  and  other  parts ; 

To  learn  with  skill  to  use  the  knife, 

And  all  the  ways  of  saving  life. 

Then  to  this  village  next  they  came, 

And  added  M.  D.  to  his  name. 

And  here  he  's  traveled  day  and  night, 

Through  mud,  and  dust,  and  sunshine  bright, 

Through  winter's  snow,  and  summer's  rain, 

The  sick  to  see  and  ease  their  pain. 

Perhaps  some  here  can  testify, 

(If  on  my  word  you  can't  rely,) 

Of  powders  and  pills  there  is  no  lack, 

Whenever  you  send  for  Dr.  Mack. 

1887. 

89 


DEDICATION  HYMN. 

Father  of  mercies,  draw  Thou  near, 

Thy  gracious  presence  lend, 
As  we  Thy  humble  servants  here, 

Our  hearts  in  reverence  bend  ; 
To  praise  Thee,  for  Thy  wondrous  love, 
And  tune  our  songs  to  Thee  above. 

We  praise  Thee  Father  that  Thy  care, 

On  us  has  been  bestowed, 
And  still  Thy  favor  may  we  share, 

Thy  glory  still  behold; 
We  praise  Thee  for  this  temple  neat, 
Long  may  it  be  Thy  mercy  seat. 

Here  may  we  come  with  contrite  hearts, 

Thy  blessing  Lord,  to  seek, 
To  moui'ners  here  Thy  grace  impart, 

To  each  Thy  comfort  mete; 
May  love  and  concord  here  abound, 
And  Holy  peace  be  ever  found. 


WELCOME  TO  A  PASTOR. 

Pastor  and  wife,  we  welcome  you, 

As  servants  of  the  Lord, 
To  walk  with  us,  to  work  with  us, 
According  to  His  word. 

Blest  of  God  may  this  union  prove, 
Our  aim  and  purpose  one  : 

90 


To  follow  Christ,  exalt  His  love, 
And  others  bid  to  come. 

United  may  our  prayers  ascend, 
From  zealous  hearts  and  firm, 

That  all  may  seek  the  Savior,  friend, 
And  ways  of  wisdom  learn. 

May  Christ  within  our  souls  so  dwell, 

That  every  thought  is  love, 
Then  will  our  lives  His  glory  tell, 
Till  called  from  earth  above. 


THE  OLD  CHURCH  CLOCK. 

[A  Paraphrase.] 

Not  a  sound  was  heard,  not  a  single  stroke, 
From  the  clock  in  the  old  church  tower ; 

Not  a  hand  that  moved  by  day,  or  night, 
To  tell  the  people  of  the  hour. 

We  thought  as  we  lay  on  our  narrow  bed, 
And  smoothed  out  our  balsam  pillow, 

Of  those  who  would  wait  the  stroke  of  the  clock, 
And  lose  the  train  on  the  morrow. 

Slowly  and  sadly,  we  rose  in  the  night, 
Thinking  perchance  it  was  morning, 

We  groped  our  way  the  gas  to  light, — 
The  morn  had  not  thought  of  dawning. 

Then  we  laid  us  down  at  dead  of  night, 
Old  Morpheus  deftly  wooing, 

91 


Kindly  he  showed  in  a  dream,  just  right, 
The  clock,  telling  the  hour  for  rising. 


,[Toa  Young  Lady  on  Her  Twenty-first  Birthday.     Aug.  2,  1891.] 

This  August  day  so  bright  and  clear, 

To  you  a  birthday  is, 
May  all  your  life,  my  young  friend  dear, 

Be  fair  and  bright  as  this. 

As  buds  unfolding  day  by  day, 

At  last  become  the  flower, 
So  years  have  come  and  sped  to  you, 

And  brought  this  happy  hour. 

Young  womanhood  now  meets  your  view, 

But  veiled  in  mystery ; 
Let  each  day  be  a  gift  from  God, 

And  prove  His  sympathy. 

Waiting  not  for  rarest  treasures, 

Gather  trifles  as  you  go; 
Life  has  surely  many  blessings, 

May  your  future  prove  it  so. 

1891. 


SURF  MEETING  AT  OCEAN  GROVE,  N.  J. 
They  are  gathering  by  the  sea, 

Singly  and  in  myriad  throng, 
At  the  Sabbath  hour  of  sunset, 

To  unite  in  prayer  and  song  ; 

92 


Mingling  voice  and  restless  ocean, 
Both  as  one,  God's  goodness  sing, 

Surging  tide  obey  His  diction, — 
Willing  hearts  to  him  we  bring. 

From  the  west  the  sun  declining, 

Casts  its  tints  upon  the  sea, 
Red  and  gold,  with  blue  commingling, 

Bids  our  eyes  its  grandeur  see; 
Bright  and  brighter,  grows  the  vision, 

And  our  hearts  with  awe  are  thrilled,. 
As  the  painter  spreads  His  picture, 

Far  exceeding  human  skill. 

Mountains  rise  at  His  dictation, 

Till  a  landscape  meets  our  eye, 
Waving  grain  and  graceful  tree  tops, 

Backed  by  clouds  surpassing  high ; 
Storied  arch  and  stately  column, 

Grandly  soar  in  ether  blue, 
While  the  modest  cot  beside  them, 

Adds  its  feature  to  the  view. 

Oh,  to  worship  this  great  artist,  « 

Is  a  favor  and  delight, 
And  we  thank  Thee,  God  of  Love, 

For  this  vision  of  Thy  might. 
Fades  at  last  this  picture  gorgeous, 

While  we  linger,  gazing  still, 
But  from  memory's  sacred  chamber, 

We'll  recall  it  when  we  will. 


93 


Now  the  crowd  go  wending  homeward, 

Prayer  and  song  no  more  we  hear, 
But  the  voice  is  speaking  ever, 

Not  far  off,  but  very  near. 
Yes,  within  our  hearts  'tis  speaking, 

Filling  us  with  joy  and  love, — 
We  will  praise  Thee  O,  our  Father, 

Here  on  earth  and  then  above. 

Aug.  1890. 


BIRTHDAY   REVERIE. 

Voyage  on  life's  changing  stream, 
My  bark  has  sailed  for  three-score  years; 
The  headlight  in  the  distance  gleams, 
And  brighter  grows  as  the  haven  nears. 
My  Father's  hand  is  on  the  wheel, 
And  trusting  Him  my  soul  will  sing, 
Though  knowing  not  if  woe,  or  weal, 
The  future  years  will  bring. 
But  with  Him,  guiding  at  the  helm, 
Nor  shoals  nor  rapids  cause  a  fear, 
For  'tis  His>  love  that  overwhelms, 
As  on  we  speed  to  the  haven  near. 

May  22,  1892. 


[To  Baby— The  First  Grandchild.] 

Welcome  to  thee,  little  stranger, 
Welcome  to  our  arms  and  love, 
Welcome  to  our  hearts  and  homes, 

94 


To  the  combine  Gowing-Brice  ; 
Though  a  girl  we  give  thee  welcome, 

Coming  early  in  the  morning, 
Coming  at  the  Sabbath  dawn, 
In  the  pleasant  autumn  season, 
When  the  trees  were  clothed  in  crimson, 
Or,  the  tint  of  sunset  golden, 
And  the  vines  with  fruit  were  heavy, 
And  the  flowers  of  richest  hue; 
With  a  gladness  in  the  air, 
Surely  nature  welcomes  you. 

May  your  life  be  bright  and  cherry, 
Light  of  heart,  with  winsome  voice, 
Carrying  sunshine  where  you  go, 
Gathering  flowers  along  the  way. 

Oct.  16th,  1892. 


THE  ETERNAL  YEARS. 

The  years,  the  years,  the  eternal  years, 

How  swiftly  they  come  and  go, 
With  hopes  expectant,  love  and  fears, 

Intermingling  joy  and  woe. , 
Ours  they  were,  we  loved  them  well, 

And  sweet  their  mem'ry  lingers, — 
In  bliss,  or  pain,  or  friendship's  dear, 

Tracing  the  Father's  finger. 
The  years,  the  years,  they  come  to  us, 

Gifts  from  God's  bounty  vast ; 
We  grow  in  them,  and  they  in  us, 

Enduring  to  the  last. 

95 


And  when  our  path  diverging,  lead 

From  friends  we  hold  most  dear, 
We  know  the  years  of  the  future 

Our  souls  will  again  bring  near. 
So  on  we'll  press  in  life's  pathway, 

Though  weary  and  faint  at  times, 
Since  the  years  we  know  are  eternal,. 

And  Jesus  directs  our  lines. 
Then  mould  us,  Master,  perfectly 

To  work  Thy  plan  divine, 
That  at  the  end  no  blot  appear, 

That  will  mar  Thy  pure  design. 


Dec.  1892. 


JUST  FOR  TODAY. 

Just  for  today 
Thy  strength,  dear  Lord,  give  me ; 

Just  for  today 

Abide  Thou,  Lord,  with  me ; 
Tomorrow's  care  need  not  alarm, 
Since  day  by  day,  I'm  kept  from  harm 

Dear  Lord,  by  Thee. 

Just  for  today 
Give  health,  O  Lord,  to  me; 

Just  for  today 

Sweet  peace  I'll  take  from  Thee ; 
Then  walking  in  Thy  ways  rely, 
That  daily  needs  Thou  wilt  supply, 

Praise  be  to  Thee. 

96 


Just  for  today 
Thy  thoughts,  O  Lord,  give  me, 

That  all  I  say 
May  for  Thy  glory  be ; 
With  love  divine  fill  Thou  my  heart, 
As  day  by  day  I  draw  apart, 

With  Thee  to  stay. 

Just  for  today 
Thyself,  dear  Lord,  give  me ; 

Then  for  today 
My  work  shall  be  for  Thee  ; 
And  on  through  all  eternity, 
Day  by  day,  I'll  live  for  Thee, 

Dear  Lord  for  Thee. 


[Address  of  Welcome  to  the  Middlesex  County  Convention  of  the 

Women's  Christian  Temperance  Union  held  in  Reading, 

Mass.,  Sept.  20th,  1894.] 

Dear  sisters  of  the  ribbon  white, 
I  bid  you  welcome  here  today  ; 
Welcome  in  this  September  rain, 
Welcome  to  this  no-license  town. 
Eighteen  years  it  has  voted,  no ! 
Welcome  to  this  ancient  town  ; 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  years  last  May, 
Since  first  the  white  man  came  to  dwell, 
Within  the  precincts  of  this  town. 
A  little  stream,  the  Ipswich, 
Whose  fish  afforded  food  for  table, 
Lured  them  to  this  wooded  spot, 

97 


And  Wood  End,  was  it  known  by  then. 
The  scene  is  strangely  changed  today  — 
Churches,  schools,  dwellings,  stores  appear 
Where  then  was  forest,  dense  and  wild. 
Could  one  of  those  first  settlers  stand 
Upon  our  common  fair  today, 
And  see  the  fiery  chariots  rage, 
Running  like  lightning  through  our  streets, 
By  night  like  torches  in  appearance, 
As  prophet  Nahum  wrote  of  old, 
Filled  with  amazement  would  they  be. 

Could  they  behold  within  this  church 
This  company  of  goodly  women, 
Who  have  come  from  their  homes  afar, 
Coming  by  electric  and  steam  car, 
With  wonder  would  they  ask:  "  What  for?" 
Why  this  concourse  all  of  women  ? 
Why  come  they  to  this  ancient  town  ? 
The  like  was  never  in  our  day, 
Pray  tell  what  can  it  be  about? 
I  would  answer,  I  would  tell  them, 
They  have  come  from  town  and  hamlet, 
Come  from  homes  far  and  near, 
Come  from  loved  ones  very  dear, 
To  talk  of  matters  that  concern  them ; 
Talk  and  plan  for  future  work, 
Work  to  help  the  rising  children, 
Work  to  rid  our  land  of  evils, 
Work  to  lead  us  heavenward,  Godward, 
Work  to  last  all  ages  through. 

98 


To  this  planning  and  this  working, 
Sisters,  I  would  welcome  you ; 
With  your  hearts  of  love  so  loyal, 
With  your  wisdom  and  discretion, 
May  you  plan  the  wisest  measures, 
To  help  on  our  cause  so  holy, 
Knowing  that  words  once  spoken, 
Like  sounds  in  phonographic  tube, 
May  be  repeated  o'er  and  o'er  — 
May  your  coming  bring  a  blessing, 
As  you  go  may  blessing  follow, 
Helpful  each  unto  the  other. 


[Words  of  Welcome  to  Dr.  W.  S.  A.  and  Wife.] 

Gladly  our  hearts  unite, 
In  welcoming  tonight 

Our  pastor  here  ; 
Together  may  we  stand, 
Upheld  by  God's  right  hand, 
A  faithful  earnest  band, 

With  hearts  of  cheer. 

To  live,  O  Lord,  for  Thee, 
Our  purpose  ever  be, 

Thy  name  to  praise. 
May  souls  to  Christ  be  brought, 
And  by  Thy  Spirit  taught 
The  paths  Thy  love  have  wrought, 

Author  of  days. 

99 


May  flock  and  pastor  each, 
Thy  presence  ever  seek, 

Spirit  of  love  ; 
United  work  for  Thee, 
Fruits  of  their  labor  see, 
Kept  by  Thy  Spirit  free, 

Till  called  above. 

Pastor  and  wife  we  greet, 
A  union  now  complete, 

Blest  gift  from  God; 
Affection  growing  strong, 
As  days  to  years  prolong, 
Thanksgiving  be  our  song, 

With  one  accord. 

1895. 


[Written  for  the  Reunion  of  the  flowing  Family,  held  at  Mr.   H. 
A.  (iould's,  Amlover,  Mass.,  Aug.  31st,  1893.] 

Sleep  came  not  to  my  eyes  one  night, 

So  rising,  at  my  window  I  sat  down, 

And  wrapped  in  Luna's  pale,  clear  light, 

A  few  thoughts  quickly  jotted  down, 

And  as  they  came  to  me, 

I  give  them  now  to^thee. 

To  the  Gould  farm,  grand  old  place, 
With  forest  fine,  have  come  this|year, 
The  Gowing  clan,  from  far  and  near, 
To  keep  their  yearly  tryst. 
The  village  noise,  the  city's  din, 
Care,  toil  and  work  of  every  kind, 

100 


Right  gladly  do  we  leave  behind, 
To  spend  a  day  with  those  of  kin. 

And  as  we  grasp  each  others  hand, 
Exchanging  kindly  words  of  cheer, 
We  trust  that  each  is  held  more  dear, 
For  this  friendly  reunion  here. 

Most  tenderly  we  think  of  one*, 
Who  with  us  stood  one  year  ago, 
Since,  heard  the  call, — onward  go ! 
And  now  from  care  and  labor  rests. 

The  pleasant  face,  the  genial  smile, 
With  which  he  greeted  each  and  all, 
Today  with  pleasure  we  recall, 
And  thanks  would  render  for  his  life. 

We  see  him  as  he  stood  that  day, 
Manly  and  kind,  of  noble  mein, 
Presiding  with  an  easy  leal, 
Befitting  well  a  higher  place. 

The  call  will  come  to  each  of  us, 
How  soon,  or  where,  we  cannot  tell, 
But  let  us  spend  each  day  so  well, 
We'll  ready  be  when  e'er  it  comes. 

These  grand  old  trees  towering  high 
Till  ether  pure  their  branches  reach, 
May  well  to  us  a  lesson  teach, 
That  all  our  aims  should  upward  tend. 

•Horace  Gowing  died  during  the  year. 
101 


That  day  by  day  advance  we  make, 
Befitting  those  of  noble  bent, 
For  life  is  but  a  gift  that's  lent, 
To  be  returned  with  usury  meet. 

God  bless  our  host  and  hostess  here, 
Many  years  they've  passed  together, 
'Mid  change  of  time  and  varied  weather ; 
Still  brightly  may  their  pathway  glow, 

As  walking  toward  the  sunset  sky, 
They  glimpses  catch  of  realms  beyond, 
Till  willing  leave  the  things  so  fond, 
For  what  lies  yonder,  waiting  them. 


[To  Mrs.  C.  T.] 

Another  year  has  sped  away, 
And  brought  again  your  natal  day  ; 
Ninety  and  one  they  are,  all  told, 
And  many  the  mercies  they  enfold. 

Changes  how  great  have  come  to  pass, 
Since  you  were  but  a  wee  bit  lass; 
We'll  not  stop  to  tell  them  here, 
But  in  your  mind  they  are  quite  clear. 

And  last  of  all  your  house  was  changed, 
We  scarce  believe  it  was  the  same, 
Where  we  have  come  many  a  time, 
To  read  to  you  some  simple  rhyme. 

We're  sorry  you  are  in  this  clutter, 
Hope  e'er  long  you  will  look  better, 

102 


And  then  what  comfort  you  will  take, 
With  these  improvements  up  to  date. 

The  bath-room  near,  so  nice  and  neat, 
Where  one  can  cleanse  both  hands  and  feet, 
Or,  sitting  in  the  window-bay, 
Observe  the  passing  'cross  the  way. 

And  now  your  labor  nearly  done, 
Your  gaze  is  toward  the  setting  sun  ; 
From  pain  we  wish  you  might  be  free, 
And  live  the  century  mark  to  see. 

Dec.  4,  1897. 


IN  MEMORIAM. 

Frances  E.   Willard. 

By  faith  we  see  the  land  that's  fair, 
Our  faith  beholds  our  Leader  there. 
Glorious  life  to  her  is  given  — 
Fellowship  with  saints  in  heaven. 

And  our  faith  beheld  the  meeting, 
And  the  tender  holy  greeting, 
From  the  loved  ones  gone  before, 
When  she  touched  the  shining  shore. 

How  bright  the  crown  upon  her  head, 
A  star  for  every  soul  she  led 
To  Christ-like  life,  and  deeds  of  love, 
Befitting  them  to  dwell  above. 

Oh!  grand  and  peerless  soul  of  while, 
The  world  and  nation  mourn  the  blight 

103 


Spread  o'er  the  land  from  east  to  west, 
Since  our  great  Chieftain  passed  to  rest. 

She  is  not  dead,  she  lives  above, 
In  atmosphere  of  perfect  love, 
And  finds  from  weary  dust  set  free, 
"How  beautiful  with  God  to  be." 

1898. 


[Lines  Written  in  the  Cars  on  the  Wrapper   of  my  Lunch-box 
En  route  from  Rochester,  N.  Y.  to  Boston.] 

God  holds  the  waters  in  His  hand, 

He  stays  the  rocks  in  place, 
His  power  we  view  on  sea  and  land, 

O'er  all  His  finger  trace. 

The  mountains  rise  in  grandeur  high, 

The  clouds  upon  them  lie, 
And  reaching  seem  to  touch  the  sky, 

All  glorious  to  the  eye. 

O'er  rocks  the  rippling  water  falls, 
Flecked  with  the  foaming  spray, 

To  view  God's  glory  nature  calls, 
Adoring,  we  obey. 

The  trees  abloom  all  white  appear, 

Pure  as  the  heavens  can  make, 
Instinctively  our  hearts  draw  near, 

To  Him,  who  all  creates. 

O  earth,  th«  handiwork  of  God, 
Right  from  His  touch  you  came, 

104 


Let  man  revere  and  worship  God, 
Ne'er  fear  to  own  His  name. 

AFTER   SUPPER. 

Now  heaven's  curtains  are  drawn  down, 
The  darkness  spreads  o'er  all, 

We'll  close  our  eyes,  let  sleep  abound, 
Till,—  «  Boston  !  "  shrill  they  call. 

May  26th,  1898. 


NORTH  SCITUATE  BEACH. 

After  the  leaden  sky  the  blue  waves  dash, 
Wave  after  wave,  o'er  the  sandy  beach  flash, 
Thus  wave  after  wave,  o'er  the  soul  rolls  love 
To  His  children;  from  the  Father  above. 


A  TWILIGHT  SCENE. 
A  glorious  sunset  gilds  the  sky, 
Through  autumn  foliage  seen; 
The  gold  and  crimson  mingle  nigh, 
With  now  and  then  a  tint  of  green; 
The  grassy  sward,  all  dotted  fine, 
With  leaves  of  varied  hue, 
Presents  a  carpet's  rich  design, 
Right  from  the  Maker  new. 

105 


Ne'er  could  a  human  pen  outline, 

A  scene  so  wondrous  fair, 

But  freely  does  the  hand  divine, 

Trace  out  these  pictures  rare. 

We  sit  and  gaze  in  rapturous  bliss, 

And  wonder,  can  there  be 

In  heaven  a  grander  scene  than  this ; 

If  so,  oh!  let  us  see. 

Oct.  1898. 


[To  the  Willard  V.  Settlement  of  Boston  who  from  their  Friends 

Solicited  for  their  First  Anniversary  a  Penny  for  every 

Year  of  One-s  Age.] 

Dear  Friends,  one  dollar  you  please  will  find, 
Sent  by  one  who  would  be  quite  inclined 
To  meet  with  you  on  your  natal  day, 
Could  she  but  go  by  the  sun's  bright  ray; 
But  one  you  see  a  hundred  years  old, 
(Though  she  never  yet,  that  age  has  told, 
Tell  it  not  I  pray  in  ancient  Gath, 
Lest  you  provoke  my  righteous  wrath,) 
May  not  with  prudence  venture  out, 
After  the  dark  goes  prowling  about, 
And  by  eight  o'clock  I'm  sleepy  quite, 
And  soon  go  to  bed,  just  up  one  flight ; 
So  enclosed  you  find  my  pennies  free, 
Hoping  many  birthdays  you  may  see. 
I'll  call  and  see  you  some  other  time, 
When  the  sun  o'er  head  doth  brightly  shine. 

Nov.  1898. 

106 


SLEEPING— AWAKENING. 

'Mid  flowers  he  lay  asleep, 
No  look  of  death  on  brow, — 
He  must  be  resting  now, 

While  angels  vigil  keep. 

How  sweet  the  rest  must  be, 
To  weary  hand  and  brain, 
That  long  have  toiled  in  pain> 

But  now  forever  free. 

And  do  we  call  this  death, 

So  calm  and  still  to  lie? 

No  look  of  pain,  or  sigh, 
No  agonizing  breath. 

Tis  the  new  life  given, 

To  purer  scenes  above, 

In  atmosphere  of  love, 
The  element  of  heaven. 

Anon,  he  wakes  in  bliss ; 
"Oh  rapture,  can  it  be 
My  soul  from  earth  set  free? 

Joyful  I  welcome  this. 

WI  see  my  loved  ones  here, 
Who  left  me  long  ago, 
And  I  did  miss  them  so  ; 

Now  all  of  them  are  near. 

"Behold,  my  Savior  dear, 
His  face  I've  longed  to  see> 

107 


lie  gave  His  life  for  me, 
II i tn  will  I  worship  here. 

"His  praise  forever  sing, 
His  love  will  be  the  theme, 
His  glory  all  supreme, 

My  Savior  and  my  King. 

"The  dear  ones  left  behind, 
Will  follow  on  quite  soon, 
For  each  there's  plenty  room, 

In  Father's  house  so  kind." 

TVov.  15,  1898. 


TO  THE  BOYS  IX  BLUE. 

Welcome  to  soldier  boys  in  blue, 
Welcome  to  the  tried  and  the  true; 
At  home  we  are  glad  to  see  you, 
And  gladly  we  come  to  greet  you; 

Welcome  to  the  boys  in  blue. 

You  left  your  homes  at  duty's  call, 
You  left  you  mothers,  wives  and  all; 
Your  sweethearts,  too,  you  left  behind, 
And  all  your  friends,  beloved  and  kind  ; 
Good-by  to  boys  in  blue. 

You  ate  the  hardtack  and  the  meat, 
That  to  your  taste  was  far  from  sweet ; 
Thro'  mud,  thro'  sand,  was  oft  your  way, 
But  all  led  on  to  victor's  day ; 

Good,  for  the  boys  in  blue. 

108 


You  followed  leaders  brave  and  true, 
Or,  if  they  faltered  on  went  you  ; 
O'er  mountains  steep,  on  foot  you  went, 
And  to  the  Spaniards  bullets  sent ; 
Glory  to  the  boys  in  blue. 

You  did  your  duty  brave  and  well, 
And  now  you  love  the  tale  to  tell ; 
To  you  the  home  life  must  be  dear, 
Home,  sweet  home,  with  naught  to  fear; 
Home  for  the  boys  in  blue. 

No  more  war  days,  we  trust,  for  you, 
The  same  we  wish  our  country  too. 
From  sea  to  sea  may  peace  abound, 
O'er  islands  and  all  nations  round  ; 
Peace  for  the  boys  in  blue. 

NOT.  17th,  1898. 


[To  Reading's  Twenty-two.] 

Proud  is  Old  Bay  State,  of  her  boys  in  blue, 
And  proud  is  Reading,  of  her  twenty-two; — 
We  saw  you  when  marching  off  to  tent, 
And  wished  at  home  you  would  be  content. 
But  no,  your  young  hearts  for  glory  did  yearn,. 
And  by  experience  only  could  learn 
That  a  soldier's  life,  even  at  best, 
Is  far  from  being  one  of  ease  and  rest. 

Shortly  from  tented  field  away  you  went, 
By  car  and  boat  to  Porto  Rico  sent. 

109 


The  cry  we  oft  hear,  "Remember  the  Maine," 
But  methinks,  you  will  remember  the  "Yale." 
It  was  eighteen  days  from  shore  to  shore, 
With  hardtack  to  eat,  and  beef  L' Armour. 
Naught  else  but  this,  came  to  your  hand  or  lip, 
Tho'  plenty  good  food,  there  was  on  the  ship. 

From  the  heights  in  Santiago  town, 

You  saw  their  colors  go  floating  down, — 

Of  the  gallant  Sixth,  we  oft  heard  with  pride, 

Driving  the  Spaniards,  on  every  side. 

You  felt  their  bullets  whizz  through  the  air, 

But  of  your  heads,  they  touched  not  a  hair. 

The  fighting  all  done,  homeward  you  came; 

The  deeds  of  the  Sixth  will  be  known  to  fame. 

We  watched  you  go  forth  with  bated  breath, 
Fearing  to  some,  it  might  mean  death  ; 
But  thanks  be  to  God,  everyone  came  back, 
And  of  joy  in  our  hearts  there  is  no  lack ; 
And  for  this  we  are  sure,  all  will  allow, 
Much  credit  is  due  our  own  Doctor  Dow. 
Then  three  cheers  for  the  brave  boys  in  blue, 
And  three  cheers  for  our  own  twenty-two. 

Nov.  29th,  1898. 


[To  Mrs.  M.  W.  H.  on  Her  Birthday.] 

A  helpless  infant  was  born,  they  say, 
Just  eighty-two  years  ago  today, 
And  Mary,  "the  star  of  the  sea," 
Was  chosen,  the  child's  name  to  be. 

110 


With  much  of  love  and  tender  care, 
The  babe  grew  \\p  ready  to  share, 
Such  changes  as  may  come  to  all, 
Who  live  on  this  terrestial  ball. 

And  so  in  time  this  infant  small, 
Became  a  woman  fair  and  tall, 
And  then  a  doctor's  bride  became, 
And  all  these  years  has  borne  his  name. 

To  this  woman  now  eighty-two, 
Honor  we'd  pay,  it  is  her  due, 
Since  for  years  we  have  found  her  true, 
Virtues  many,  mistakes  but  few. 

Many  changes  have  come  to  you, 

But  I'll  mention  only  a  few: — 

Two  daughters  came  your  home  to  share, 

But  only  one  is  with  you  here, 

For  Delia  left  you  long  ago, 
All  these  years  you've  missed  her  so; 
Yet  often  times  you  feel  her  near, 
Though  dwelling  in  the  upper  sphere. 

To  Civil  War  your  husband  went, 
His  skill  and  care  to  soldiers  lent; 
Soon  you  followed  with  love  intent, 
The  sick  to  help  in  field  and  tent. 

You've  seen  the  slaves  from  bondage  free, 
And  women  voters  lived  to  see. 
You  traveled  oft  by  boat  and  steam, 
But  not  till  late  by  lightning  team. 

Ill 


And  now  the  Cuban  war  is  o'er, 
We  hope  for  peace  forevermore  ; 
Other  wonders  you  will  recall, 
I  have  not  time  to  mention  all. 

Oh,  wondrous  age  is  this,  we're  told, 
And  wondrous  sights  our  eyes  behold, 
But  vaster  wonders  shall  we  see, 
When  safe  across  the  "  Jasper  sea. " 

You've  walked  alone  these  many  years, 
Since  he  who  shared  your  joys  and  tears, 
Was  called  from  earth  above  to  dwell, 
By  Him  who  "doeth  all  things  well." 

And  He  who  "doeth  all  things  well," 
Has  given  you  grace  His  love  to  tell, 
His  strength  in  need  He's  given  you, 
And  earthly  blessings  not  a  few. 

And  here  these  many  years  you've  dwelt, 
Ever  busy  with  mind  content, 
Doing  the  good  that  came  to  hand, 
Reaping  the  blessing  of  our  land. 

And  here  your  friends  who  know  your  worth, 
Have  gladly  gathered  round  your  hearth; 
'Tis  pleasant  quite  to  meet  you  here, 
With  everything  your  heart  to  cheer. 

Now  as  the  days  speed  one  by  one, 
You  near  the  fast  declining  sun, 
But  hope  looks  up  to  visions  fair, 
While  faith  beholds  your  loved  ones  there. 

Dec.  16th,  1898. 

112 


[To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Phineas  Oreen.] 

How  oft  of  Love,  the  Muse  has  sung, 
(With  graceful  word,  and  flowing  tongue,)- 
When  youthful  hearts  have  plighted  troth, 
To  walk  life's  pathway,  nothing  loth; 
And  oft  'tis  thought  no  love  can  be, 
Like  early  vows,  strong,  pure  and  free. 

Of  second  love,  I  sing  tonight, 

These  twenty  years  its  been  your  light, 

With  hearts  matured,  and  ripened  years, 

Your  love  has  had,  nor  change,  nor  fears;; 

But  lapsing  o'er  the  decades  past, 

Has  purer  grown  unto  the  last. 

'Tis  well  I'm  sure  that  Cupid's  art, 
Regards  not  age,  in  seeking  hearts; 
And  thus  it  is,  true  love  can  come 
At  any  time,  to  light  our  home; 
Adorning  e'en  the  plainest  face, 
And  robing  all  with  winning  grace. 

But  though  your  life  has  ripened  well,. 
One  fact  there  is  quite  strange  to  tell, 
(I'd  silent  be  but  all  have  seen,) 
With  all  these  years  you  still  are  Green,, 
And  Green,  I  fear,  must  be  yonr  fate, 
To  change  that  truth,  'tis  quite  too  late. 

We  wonder,  sir,  how  you  should  dare, 
Ask  a  lady  with  you  to  bear 
A  name  that  hints  of  verdure  new, — 
But  yet  methinks  we  have  the  clue: 

113 


In  nature,  flowers  are  seldom  seen, 
Without  the  all  attending  green. 

Who  would  think  a  wreath  to  twine, 

~With  flowers  only,  how  e'er  fine? 

-Add  the  foliage  and  you  see, 

Nature  true  to  harmony; 

So  your  hearts  according  well, 

Love  has  wreathed  them  with  a  spell. 

Another  fact,  I  here  will  tell, 
A  fact,  you  will  remember  well. 
This  chair,  quite  easy  you  will  find; 
And  should  you  ever  feel  inclined, 
In  it  can  take  your  mid-day  nap, 
With  wife  beside,  or  in  your  lap. 

We  hope  you  long  may  fill  it  well, 

And  in  it  many  stories  tell; 

And  may  your  children  gather  here, 

To  celebrate  for  many  a  year, 

The  day  you  thought  it  not  too  late, 

To  woo,  and  wed,  a  second  mate. 


[To  Mrs.  O.  H.  Swain.] 

The  wedding-bells  methinks  I  hear, 
The  silvery  bells  so  soft  and  clear; 
A  quarter  century  they  proclaim, 
Of  wedded  life  to  Mrs.  Swain. 

How  strange  it  seems  a  maiden  fair, 
To  be  a  swain  should  have  a  care, 

114 


But  such  the  mysteries  of  this  life, 
You  willingly  became  a  wife. 

The  day  to  honor  we  have  come, 
Because  you  said  you'd  be  at  home, 
Something  so  very,  very  rare, 
We're  pleased  with  you  an  hour  to  share. 

The  silver  bells  will  change  their  song, 
As  you  together  jog  along, 
And  soon  the  chimes  of  gold  will  sound,- 
May  joy  and  peace  with  you  abound. 


[To  Mrs.  R.  H.  on  the  Death  of  her  Aged  Mother.] 

She  has  laid  life's  burden  down, 
She  has  gone  to  wear  the  crown, 
Her  harp  to  tune  to  sing  His  love, 
Who  died  that  we  might  live  above. 

Then  let  no  tear  of  sorrow  fall, 
She  but  obeyed  the  Father's  call ; 
And  now  amid  the  angels  bright, 
Awaits  you  in  that  realm  of  light. 

Oh  may  we  all,  together  meet 
Around  the  Savior's  mercy-seat, 
His  praise  forever  more  to  sing ; 
Praise  to  our  Savior,  Lord  and  King. 


115 


GORDON  REST. 

Pure  is  the  air  at  "Gordon  Rest," 
Fair  the  flowers,  at  their  best; 
Wood  and  lake  combine  to  make, 
Charming  place,  a  rest  to  take. 

When  we  turn  our  weary  feet, 
From  the  noon-day  burning  heat, 
Piney  woods  with  odor  sweet, 
Welcome  each  one  to  a  seat. 

And  the  birds  on  bush  and  tree, 
Warble  strains  of  melody; 
Thus  our  hearts  with  joy  should  sing, 
Praises  to  our  Father  King. 

Through  the  trees  glimmering  bright, 
See  the  flash  of  water  white. 
Down  the  hill  with  haste  we  hie, 
Where  the  lake  so  peaceful  lies. 

On  its  shore  we  sit  or  lie, 
Chatting  as  the  moments  fly, 
Feasting  eye  on  lovely  scene, 
E'en  Dame  Nature's  fairest  green  ; 

Or,  taking  boat  we  row  away, 
Where  the  lily  white  doth  lay; 
On  the  wavelet's  shining  breast, 
Gracefully  its  bloom  doth  rest. 

Here  we  gather  bud  and  bloom, 
Till  for  more  there  is  no  room, 

116 


And  their  perfume  sweet  and  rare, 
Rivals  well  their  beauty  fair. 

Then  at  eve  on  lawn  we  sit, 
Watching,  colors  as  they  flit, 
Changing  ever  and  anon, 
Rainbow  tints  from  setting  sun. 

Calm  and  sweet  is  nature  here, 
Naught  to  trouble,  naught  to  fear; 
Bid  your  daily  cares  to  cease, 
And  enjoy  its  quiet  peace. 

"Gordon  Rest"  is  a  pleasant  place, 
In  its  beauty  we  would  trace, 
The  hand  of  Him  who  loves  us  well, 
And  His  goodness  ever  tell. 

Hanson,  Mass.,  June  17th,  1899. 


[Read  at  the  King's  Daughters  Convention  at  "Gordon  Rest,1 
Hanson,  Mass.,  June  21st,  1899.] 

'Tis  gala  day  at  "Gordon  Rest," 
Nature  has  donned  its  very  best; 
Rooms  are  decked  with  flowers  neat, 
Peonies,  rose,  and  lilies  sweet. 

In  the  sunshine  clear  and  bright, 
Float  the  colors,  red,  blue,  white, 
Emblem  of  our  country  free, 
Dear  they  are  to  you  and  me. 

Glad  welcome  Daughters  of  a  King, 
Glad  welcome  let  the  welkin  ring; 

117 


You  have  come  from  far  and  near, 
Each  the  others  heart  to  cheer. 

May  the  hours  be  passed  with  joy, 
God's  own  peace  without  alloy; 
And  when  you  homeward  bend  your  steps, 
Know  the  day  has  been  well  spent; 

Stronger  feel,  'your  work  to  do, 
Blessings  find  forever  new; 
Walking  heavenward  in  God's  light, 
May  your  lives  grow  daily  bright. 


[To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Andrew  Howes.] 

Ring  out,  ring  out,  your  wedding  bells, 
Ring  out  your  sweetest  strain; 
Bid  all  in  glad  refrain, 

This  golden  wedding  day  to  tell. 

Since  silver  wedding  bells  did  ring, 
The  years  have  quickly  sped, 
And  now  as  then  I'm  led, 

A  little  song  for  you  to  sing. 

Rich  blessings  have  been  given  you, 
Good  health  and  all  that  brings, 
Cheerful  hearts  and  voice  to  sing, 

As  mercies  came  and  favors  new. 

Together  you  have  crossed  the  tide, 

Of  fair  Atlantic's  breast, 

On  foreign  shores  to  rest, 
And  then  at  home  with  friends  abide. 


118 


These  years  with  fruitage  have  been  rare, 
With  love  your  hearts  all  fraught, 
United  you  have  wrought, 

For  doing  good  has  been  your  share. 

Our  sister's  voice  has  oft  been  heard,, 
The  weak  and  low  to  lift, 
That  darken  clouds  might  rift, 

And  joyful  songs  of  praise  be  heard. 

Good  tidings  have  your  lips  let  fall, 

And  bade  the  sad  look  up, 

To  Him,  who  fills  each  cup, 
Yet  sheds  His  mercies  over  all. 

For  fifty  years  your  love  has  given 

Your  lives  a  trustful  rest, 

Now  turning  to  the  west, 
Your  view  looks  on  toward  Heaven. 

The  west  decline  has  gentle  slope, 

The  valley  fruited  deep, 

Bids  you  a  harvest  reap, 
Well  earned,  of  Christian  love  and  hope- 

Now,  standing  on  the  heights  tonight, 

You  view  the  land  afar, — 

The  scene  is  wondrous  fair, 
May  all  your  path  be  bright. 

Then  ring  the  bells,  the  golden  bells,, 
King  out  their  sweetest  strain, 
Bid  all  in  glad  refrain, 

This  happy  wedding  day  to  tell. 

July  29th,  1899. 

119 


I  KNOW   NOT. 

I  know  not  the  way  that's  before  me, 

Whether  of  joy  or  sorrow, 
I  know  not  what  the  years  may  bring  me, 

Not  even  the  tomorrow. 

But  I  know  that  He  who  cares  for  me, 

And  loves  me  now  and  ever, 
Will  give  what  He  knows  is  best  for  me, 

And  lead  me  on  forever. 

And  so  my  heart  will  delight  to  sing, 

His  praises  over  and  o'er, 
•Since  He  to  me  is  Savior,  is  King, 

I  will  trust  Him  evermore. 


OCTOBER. 

Bright  autumn,  the  time  of  rich  colors, 
The  glory  and  crown  of  the  year, 

With  magical  touch  tints  the  foliage, 
To  welcome  your  coming  here. 

-Gracefully  the  golden  rod  waves  its  plume, 
Nasturtiums  and  asters  so  gay, 

Mingle  beauty  and  perfume  together, 
To  enrich  the  days  of  your  stay. 

'The  trees  with  their  branches  heavy  laden, 
The  vines  with  their  fruitage  sweet, 

Vie  each  with  the  other  in  offering, 
Their  treasure  to  lay  at  your  feet. 

1-20 


The  picture  is  gay  and  enchanting, 
We  wish  it  might  linger,  or  stay, 

But  as  all  things  here  are  quite  fleeting, 
We  know  that  soon  you'll  away. 

Oct.  1899. 


BIRTHDAY  ANNIVERSARY. 

Days,  weeks  and  months  glide  swiftly  by, 
We  scarcely  heed  their  flight; 

The  year  brings  round  the  natal  day, 
The  fiftieth  conies  tonight. 

Sometimes  'tis  well  these  days  to  mark, 

To  live  in  memory  long, 
And  so  the  full  meridian  time, 

We  celebrate  with  song. 

The  boundary  you  now  have  reached, 
Which  marks  old  age  in  youth, 

And  enter  now  the  youth  of  age, 
With  grace  accept  the  truth. 

But  keep  the  heart  forever  young, 
And  tuned  to  sweetest  sound  ; 

Then  will  the  songs  of  later  years, 
With  youthful  joy  abound. 

And  as  the  years  repeat  their  course, 

May  peace  with  you  abide  ; 
Happy  and  restful  be  your  lot, 

With  children  by  your  side. 

121 


CONCORD,  MASS. 

How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  Old  Con 
cord, 

Which  fond  memory  often  loves  to  recall, 
East  Quarter,  Virginia  Lane,  old  road  to  Bedford,. 
The  great  elms,  and  the  ash,  which  shaded  us  all. 

The  little  school  house,  and  the   brook   running 

near  it, 

The  bridge,  and  the  rocks,  where  time  quickly  flew,. 
The  home  of  my  father,  with  the  great  barn  near  it> 
The  green  grassy  meadow  spread  out  to  our  view. 

The  hill  rising  high,  all  the  way  to  the  village, 
The  very  same  hill,  where  the  British  foe  went, 
The  stores,  and  the  town,  to  destroy  and  to  pillage, 
On  that  memorable  morn  by  Pitcairn  sent.* 

Oh,  the  hill,  and  the  woods  where  the  wild  flowers 

grew, 

Which  seeking,  I  roamed  at  my  own  sweet  will, 
There  the  columbine  found  and  lubin  so  blue, 
And  all  that  grew  in  dell,  or  on  the  hill. 

Often  I  recall  the  drives  around  the  old  town, 
The  woods  road  to  Walden,  on  Thoreau  to  call, 

*The  19th  of  April,  1775,  when  Maj.  Pitcairn  led  the  British  to  des 
troy  the  military  stores  iu  Concord,  Mass. 

123 


The  monument  street,  to  the  old  battle-field  ground, 
With  its  avenue  wide,  and  trees  fine  and  tall. 

The  "Old  Manse"  standing  near,  where  Hawthorne 

oft'  wrote, 
The   grass  grown   river  which    gave  name   to  the 

town 

By  Indians  long  ago,  when  canoes  they  did  float, 
And  Musketoquid  called  both  river  and  town. 

A  row  on  the  river,  the  dark  "Hemlocks"  to  reach, 
Or  a  picnic  with  friends,  at  "Fair  Haven  Bay," 
Was  considered  by  all  a  desirable  treat, 
In  early  fall,  or  a  fine  summer  day. 

And  pleasant  was  the  drive  to  Punkatasset  hill, 
Where  woodland,  and  vale  and  green  fields  met 

our  view, 

Anon,  the  wide  road  leading  to  Wetherbee's  mill, 
All,  all,  I  do  recall,  and  many  more,  too. 

Then  at  "Merriam's  Corner,"  we  often  were  found, 
Passed  the  pine  shaded  house  where  Emerson 

wrote, 

The  home  of  the  Alcott's,  with  the  orchard  around, 
The  great  elm  in  front,  and  the  meadow  we  note. 

A  call  at  the  cottage  'neath  the  spreading  elm  tree,* 
We  surely  would  make,  ere  our  route  was  complete; 
And  here  the  grape,  cultured  in  perfection  would 

see, 
WThich  our  host  would  urge  us  to* take,  and  to  eat. 

*Tlie  home  of  Hon.  E.  W.  Bull,  the  originator  of  the  celebrated 
Concord  grape. 

124 


Oh,  the  scenes  of  Old  Concord  I  love  to  recall, 
The  scenes  of  my  childhood,  my  womanhood,  too; 
As  the  years  pass  away,  I  rejoice  in  them  all, 
And  the  picture  gladly  paint  with  love's  bright  hue. 


125 


INDEX. 

Acknowledging  a  Barrel  of  Clothing                 -  13 

A  Child's  Prayer  19 

A  Fast  Day  Prayer  26 

A  Wesson  from  a  Child  64 

A  National  Thanksgiving    -  24 

Augel  Visits     -                               -  39 

A  Postal  Card  10 

A  Peep  at  Home  1 5 

A  Prayer  for  Peace  21 

A  Twilight  Scene  105 

Autumn  10 

Autumn  Leaves  23 

A  Visit  to  Rochester,  N.  Y.                                 -  47 

A  Welcome  to  Rev.  J.  H.  E.         -  56 

Birthday  Soliloquy 

Birthday  lines  to  a  Gentleman     - 

Birthday  lines  to  Mr.  D.  H.  W. 

Birthday  lines  to  a  Lady  104  years  old 

Birthday  Reverie 

Birthday  lines  to  Mrs.  J.  B.  N. 

Centennial  Anniversary  of  a  Church  85 

Christmas  Tree  31 

Chapter  of  History  88 

Closing  of  School  7 

Concord  123 

Dedication  of  Hall,  Nashville,  Tenn.  63 

Dedication  Hymn  for  Church  87 

Dedication  Hymn  90 

Disregarded  Blessings  45 

Different  Ways  77 

Eternal  Years,  The  95 

Fiftieth  Birthday  86 

For  the  Reunion  of  the   21st  Mass.  Regiment  72 

For  the  King's  Daughters  Convention  117 

Fishermen,  The  59 


Giving  66 

Golden  Wedding  Poem  to  Uncle  and  Aunt                     86 

Gowiug  Familv  .Reunion       -  100 

Gordon  Rest  *  116 

Golden  Wedding  Poem  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howes  118 

Higher  Life             ....  56 

« 

I  Know  Not      -                                -  120 

Installation  Hymn  54 

Ju  Memoriam — Frances  E.  Willanl  103 

Just  for  Today        -  96 

Last  Wish,  The  7 

Letter  to  a  Friend  10 

Lines  for  a  Christmas  Tree  9 

Lines  Sent  with  a  Cross        -  9 

Lines  to  my  Sister  13 

Lines  Sent  with  a  Mustard  Cup  52 

Marriage  Reception        -  62 

Memorial    -  20 

Memorial  Hymn — 1877  67 

Memorial  Hymn— 1879  75 

My  Parents'  Golden  Wedding  34 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howes'  Silver  Wedding  -              52 

North  Scituate  Beach    -               -  105 

October    -                -                -  -                            120 

Old  South  Clock,  The                    -  -                    91 

On  my  Fiftieth  Birthday      -  86 

Onward,  Upward  27 

Parting  Thoughts                   -  50 

Pastor's  Ride,  The  41 

Presentation  to  a  Teacher    -  84 

Rededication  of  a  Church  44 

Silver  Wedding      -  71 

Sunshine  and  Shade        -  18 

Supplication  14 

Surf  Meeting  at  Ocean  Grove      -  92 

Sleeping,  Awakening  107 


To  a  Lady  on  her  Twenty-first  Birthday  -                     92 

To  a  Young  Married  Couple  40 

To  Aunt  on  the  Death  of  her  Husband  -                     29 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  D.  H.  W.  55 

To  Miss  E.  R. ;  Fiftieth  Birthday  -                     68 

To  Mrs.  C  T.  102 

To  my  Sister  on  the  Birth  of  a  Child  22 

To  my  Muse                            ...  28 

To  Mrs.  M.  VV.  H.  110 

To  my  Brother  12 

To  Reading's  Twenty-two  109 

To  "Social  Readers''  42 

To  the  Readers'  Circle  -  35 

To  the  Boys  in  Blue  108 

To  the  Baptist  Ladies'  Circle        -  59 

To  the  Keeper  of  Town  Farm              -  83 

To  Mrs.  R.  H.  115 

To  the  First  Baby  in  the  Family        -  94 

To  Willard  Y.  Settlement  106 

To  Mr.  D.  H.W.     -  73 

To  a  Gentleman  on  his  Fiftieth  Birthday  76 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Phineas  Green  113 

To  Mrs.  C.  H.  Swain      -  114 

Under  the  Cloud    -  19 

Visit  to  National  Cemetery  30 

Working  for  the  Lord  51 

Written  in  the  Cars        -  -                   104 

Welcome  to  Dr.  W.  S.  A.      -  99 

Welcome  to  W.  C.  T.  U.  Convention  -                    97 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-50TO-4,'61(B8994s4)444 


3513 


'owing  - 


G7471m My  chest 


Ji>>/>fkJ%i 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000249899    6 


